


For All The Gold

by KittyKenway



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: A very reluctant recruit, And a love interest, During The Hobbit, Dwarf Culture & Customs, F/M, Female dwarf oc, Fili gets more screen time, Fix-It of Sorts, I'm Sorry Tolkien, Inspired by The Hobbit, POV First Person, The Company finds another recruit, Who isn't that interested at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 125,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyKenway/pseuds/KittyKenway
Summary: Nithi grew up, alone and abandoned, in the mean corners of Ered Luin. A thief and not a bad one at that; she jumps at the opportunity to become the fourteenth dwarf of Thorin Oakenshield's Company.  With the promise of Erebor's vast treasures sparking her initial interest, she soon finds quicker recompense with a certain golden-haired prince.
Relationships: Fíli (Tolkien) & Original Female Character(s), Fíli (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s), Fíli (Tolkien)/Original Female Dwarf Character(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 45





	1. Thick as Thieves

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This was originally published on Wattpad in instalments c.2014–18 and I've been meaning to move it over to AO3 for some years now. Hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Original disclaimer: This story is based off of the Hobbit movies and so credit is very much due not only to J. R. R. Tolkien, the original author of the Hobbit, but also to Peter Jackson and his team for the movies. At some points, actual dialogue and lyrics are used from the movie, especially where the story follows the movie's plot, and so, unfortunately, do not belong to me. I'm sure if you've watched the films, you'll be able to see which bits are my own and which bits are not.

Night was just beginning to fall over the Blue Mountains when I made my way down the long dirt track and into the Ruined Gorge. While this may seem like an adventurous start for my story, the Ruined Gorge was rather my local tavern, and not a place of monsters and orcs. It had been a miserable day, even by the west-laying region's usual standards: grey and drizzly throughout, and things were not much brighter underneath the earth.

By the time I made by appearance, the tavern had fallen into its usual, disreputable state. Old, rotten tables lay carelessly, overturned, across the ground - a fight had just been broken up. There was dirt everywhere, grime up the walls and long stamped into the flagstones; the kind of dirt you see gather under your nails over time. Unwashed dwarves sat about; fresh, smelly and dusty from a day in the mines, drinking deep into chipped tankards. None of them bothered to look up as I opened the door; the broken bell above my head moving without making a sound.

"Ale," I said to the tavern keep as I passed. No hellos. No how-dee-dos. This was not the kind of establishment where polite chit-chat was required. The tavern keep merely pushed the tankard towards me with only a cursory grunt of acknowledgement. As per my usual evening routine, I took the drink from him with barely a nod, and then brought it over to my little corner. The table here, while rickety, was still standing upright, and here at least I could find the bottom of my tankard easily and safely enough, what with the wall at my back and the door well in my line of vision.

It swung open several more times, the bell continuing to move uselessly and silently; the Ruined Gorge was a favourite among the kind of folk who preferred to do their business at night. One particular fellow caught my eye from where he sat but two tables from mine. Who could ignore the red, three-spiked bouffant of dear, old Nori? He may have been only a few yards away from me- not that he would have recognised me straight away as I had yet to pull back my hood - but his conversation was too low and too concealed by the general din of the room for me to catch it. His companion however was interesting to look at - better dressed than any other dwarf in this room, although sadly he was too smart to keep his affluence in an easy to grab pouch on his belt. A respectable fellow this one. The kind who had a profession and a decent name. A grey beard, braided into a case (silver, was it?) and a long moustache. A fine suit: a real dandy then. What would his sort have to do with a common thief like our Nori?

Whatever the two were talking about, it proved to be heated. The respectable fellow's full cheeks were a full ruddy red. He spat whatever else he had to say out, drew his coat closer to him and stormed back out of the door; his tankard just as frothy and full as when the tavern keep had given it to him.

Being a dwarf of some curiousity and having known Nori for far longer than either of us would have liked, I took the opportunity gladly to siddle over and make my presence known.

"Nithi?" he gasped- evidently my arrival had slipped past his guard. "Look, about the money. I'll get it to you by-"

"It's not about the money," I said, although it was. I was just saving that particular topic for a better time, but this was just too good a moment to miss. I pulled back my hood, shook my light braids out, brushed my beard down with my hand. "Who was that?" I added, with a rare enough smile, all friendly like.

"No one," Nori grunted in reply, knocking back his drink hastily. Something about seeing me smile so had really unsettled him and he looked ready to make a quick escape. So I called over to the tavern keep and soon we had freshly refilled tankards.

"My brother," he admitted, finally, after his third drink. "Dori."

"Dori?" I had never, in all the years I had known Nori, heard him mention having a brother, let alone telling me his name.

"So what does your... brother want?"

"Nothing." Once again, Nori was clamming up, dropping his gaze. More drink was needed. I waved the tavern keep over yet again.

"Fine," he said, wobbling somewhat in his chair, five drinks later. Stumbling slightly on his words, he continued: "I signed up for this thing. This quest thing, y'know, and now our little - hic - our little brother, Ori's, signed up too and - hic - Dori's worried. He's passing kittens - hic - because he's scared that Ori's gonna get himself killed, trying to please me and - hic - now he's signed up as well-"

"Signed up for what?" I said, impatiently interrupting what had to be the longest sentence to ever pass Nori's lips.

"Erebor," the dwarf said, visibly drooping over his empty tankard. "The Lonely - hic - Mountain. Thorin Oakenshield's putting together a company to - hic - take back the mountain and what-not from the dragon."

"Erebor?" _The Lonely Mountain?_ I lowered my voice to a whisper, yet this news was big. The kind of news that should have been on everyone's lips in a community as small as the one made up of the old refugees of Erebor and their kin. "But when are they heading off?"

"Soon. Before next new moon -"

"And it's... _the_ Thorin Oakenshield -" What young dwarf had not heard of Thorin Oakenshield, heir of Durin, victor of Azanulbizar? "-who's leading it?"

"S'right. But he's gone ahead for now. S'Balin's the one - hic - calling people together."

"So when were you going to tell us all you were leaving on your travels, Nori?" I said, sweetly. "Was it going to be before or after you paid me?"

The inebriated dwarf only stared at me through bleary eyes. "What?"

"My share," I leaned forward, any sweetness in my voice evaporating as it lowered to a hiss. "My share of the heist. I worked three months with you and Greger on it: planning, sourcing what we needed. I all but staked out the big guy's house for three weeks. Three weeks! You're the one who took the jewels. You're the one who promised to sell them on and split the money three ways. It's been a week now. Over a week! Where is my share?"

"S'coming, Nee," he sighed. "I just need to shake off some tail first, y'know. Authorities - hic - are on the look out for jewels suddenly on the market and all. Can't have them tracing it back to us."

"If I've find out you've squandered it, you elf-faced bastard, I'll chase you east myself. You won't only have dragons to worry about." And with that, I stood up, drained the remaining ale from my tankard, and turned back to the tavern keep.

"Put it all on Nori's tab," I said, as my unwilling benefactor slumped forward. "Be sure to remind him to speak to me when he wakes up." I added, drawing my hood back over my head and exiting the establishment before the keep could even bother to reply.

Outside, a light drizzle was falling over the few outward structures on the mountainside. At such a late time, most of the population were already deep underground, but the few remaining pedestrians all walked past with their hoods up. A pair of guards from the Night Watch stood not far from the tavern entrance, talking quietly among themselves. I passed the two dwarves easily, my head low. While I always prided myself in acting cautiously - keeping my nose clean and all that - my most recent heist with Nori had left me unnerved, especially around the local police force, and not just because of the late repayment.

It had been an unusually daring one for me: one that ended with me clambering out of a high-up (and very wealthy) dwarf's hall, laden with jewels and coin. Burglary was a risky move away from simple pickpocketing and I had yet to be sure that we had really managed to get away with it.

Nori's mention of the quest had also unsettled me, but for different reasons. I had never seen the Lonely Mountain myself, nor had many of the younger dwarves I associated with. Yet this community, residing within the ruins of Belegost, had originally been of Erebor. Some figures, like that of the famous Oakenshield, had lived in that kingdom, beneath that mountain; Mahal's breath, Oakenshield had a right to rule the bloody thing! My own parents had been of Erebor, but they had died before they could tell me anything memorable about the place.

There was not a dwarf though within the Blue Mountains who had not heard of Erebor, be it from their parents' knees or from drunken talk. Heard the older dwarves speak of its fine halls, the mines beneath it and the treasure it unearthed. 

While I have resolved in time that my reasons were nobler, my initial interest that night was not of reclaiming my people's ancient homestead, but instead resided rather for the vast quantities of gold beneath it. The forges and mines of the Lonely Mountain, if the words of the older dwarves could be believed, were far wealthier than what remained in the Blue Mountains. Whatever wealth resided there was limited only to a very few, leaving the remaining majority of the refugees and their children with just enough to make ends meet.

Yet to reside once more in _Erebor_. To live as wealthy as the last Durin king and his people. It was this thought that warmed me as I climbed back down under the earth and back to the crumbling hole I called home. At the end of the familiar tunnel, I pulled back the tattered drapes and peered into the low room, packed as it was with old pieces of furniture, and called out to the shack's other residents.

For a moment, my arrival was met with a deadly silence. Holding my breath, I drew a dagger from my belt, careful to conceal the blade beneath the fabric of my cloak, as I called out once more.

For a long moment, there was nothing and then a rustle from the far corner announced the presence of another dwarf. Coughing, spluttering and clutching her chest, a lone Tig rolled out from under the remains of a cabinet set.

"Nee?" she gasped, between splutters.

"Only me, Tiggy," I said, strolling across the room's only clear bit of floor, depositing a small leather pouch of coins on the ground beside my choking landlady. "Today's pickings." I hopped over her and cleared my way over to the corner where I kept my things. "Where is everyone?" It was rare for it to be just me and Tig in the room. Normally there would be another ten dwarves loitering about, either sleeping or eating.

"Scarpered-" Tig gasped. "Gone-"

I unfolded my bedroll, before squinting across the dim room at my landlady. "Gone where?"

"No idea." Tig drew herself up, rubbed at her sore knees. "Night Watch folk - here not an hour before you- asking questions and the like."

That wasn't good. Nor was the look I caught on the roomowner's face as she straightened up, caught her breath and turned to face me. Nothing normally bothered Tig; you could probably admit to setting half of her cavern alight and her response would be to point you to the communal water bucket. It was this carefree attitude that made her a blessing as a landlady, especially when you were short on rent as I regularly seemed to be. The downsides of this however was that when Tiggy looked concerned, you knew that a real cartload of trouble was coming.

"What were they asking about?"

"You of course! Where you were? Who you've been hanging around with lately?" Tig frowned. "They mentioned something about missing jewels. A burglary."

So we had done it. My fears were true after all. We had over-stepped ourselves big time. And now the authorities were on my back. They knew where I lived and if they knew where I lived...

Spinning hastily around, I lunged at Tig and all but grabbed the older dwarf.

"Did they say my name? Did they know it?"

"Aye. They have that Greger fellow and he told them all everything. And one of the other dwarves here told him you were bound to be at the Gorge-" Of course, I must have passed the pair only moments after leaving the tavern. "But they didn't root through your things. I made sure of that."

A small victory at least, but it was not as if the jewels were buried in my bedroll. There was however an inebriated, loose-tongued Nori at the Gorge and at least a dozen eyewitnesses to attest to my arrival. _Yes, sir. No, sir. Here all evening, sir, just left. Headed down one of the western tunnels, sirs, back again to old Widow Tiggy's. She'll be there still, I'm sure of it._

"They'll be back," I said aloud, mostly to myself, running back over to my corner and snatching up my bedroll from where it lay. My worldly possessions at the time were few and meagre, but I still had a good bit of coin tucked away in the seam of my bedroll.

"Where will you go?" Tig asked nervously after me.

"North, I suppose." Not that I had any real idea where I was going. Or what I was going to do when I got there. But Tig would need something to give to the Night Watchmen when they were bound to return.

"Be quick about it then," she replied, solemnly patting me on the shoulder as I passed. "Wait..." she cried out. "Before you go." She hobbled nimbly across the room to where a rounded object leant against the wall, sealing up some crack or whatever. "Your father's old shield," she said, passing the faded, old piece of wood. "You can't leave without it."

I took it without thanks, threw it with the bedroll over my shoulder, and without a backwards glance, carried on down the tunnel, being sure to take the narrow, quiet routes through the earth. 

Through the twisty tunnels I ran, hood up and head down, all my way across the underground town until the tunnels became more even and the walls of them far more decorated. This was the decent end of the mountain settlement: the halls here were on a much larger and grander scale and the folk around here of a better sort. If I carried on through a few more tunnels, I would be at the crime scene itself. On this side, there were shops here too, carved into the stone, rather than just the odd trader: bakeries and butchers, furniture carvers and toy makers. It was not an end that I was well acquainted with, but I did not mean to stay long.

You see, on the run from Tiggy's, an idea had emerged in my head. I had to leave, that was non-negotiable. Sooner or later, I was bound to be caught out and locked up. I could either make a break for it now or spend the next fifty years in an isolated cell deep within the mountain. Yet I had known no other place beyond this settlement and the prospect of fleeing from it filled me with dread.

I could have headed north as I told Tiggy; move further into the mountains and into the forest beyond them. But I was a thief, not a hunter. I needed dwarves, the odd man, and their purses to survive. In the wild, alone, I would surely starve.

I could have headed east and travelled among Men in their lands, but I was not overly keen on their sort from the few previous encounters I had had with them. They were often clumsy around those smaller than them and particularly rude in their curiosity of dwarven women. It had something to do with their own women not being able to grow beards, and I could not face the thought of being a lone oddity amongst them.

Yet there were dwarves however planning to head east, that was if I could trust Nori's information to be correct. And if Thorin Oakenshield was leading it, then chances were that people of this end of tohe mountain would know a great deal more about it than the rest of us would.

And with just a few questions to the right people, I was pushing open the door of yet another tavern (a much finer establishment than my usual and one that was actually underground) and finding myself again in the presence of a well-dressed dwarf.

"Balin?" I said, to the grey-bearded pair of dwarves the barman had pointed out for me.

The dwarf on the left turned away from his companion at the sound of his name.

"Aye?" he said, in a friendly, soft tone. "That'll be me."

Swinging my father's old shield down from my shoulder, I slammed it down before him on the table.

"And this is...?"

"My shield, at your service," I said, drawing back my hood,

"My dear..." He began, looking uneasily from my shield, back to me and then again to the shield. 

"I hear Thorin Oakenshield's looking for dwarves for a quest. Well, here's my offer. I'd like to be a member of his company." I took the stool across from him and patted fondly at the shield's peeling paintwork.

"Can you wield this?"

"Yes, I can," I lied easily. Aye, I could hold the damn thing, but I never had practiced much at using it for combat. At Tig's, it had spent the last thirty years gathering dust as a table leg.

"I'm sure you can, but we can't really accept young dwarf maidens on such a quest. There are too many risks-"

"Yes, I know," I said, bristling at his use of the word 'maiden'. "Dragons and all of that. But I can fight." Perhaps not with a sword, but I could be nifty with my fists when I had to be.

"How old are you?"

"A hundred." Although truthfully I was still a few years shy of ninety. They didn't however need to know that.

"There's not only that," his companion cried, finally catching the gist of the conversation through his giant earhorn. "There's bound to be orc packs and thieves and other nasty things on the road."

"Oin speaks true, lass," Balin added, not unkindly. "Go back to your home and to your family. I'm sure they'll be worried about you if you go off east."

"I'm sure they would," I said, "if they weren't dead." The two older dwarves bristled now at that, exchanging each other awkward glances. I took advantage of this to signal over to the barman for a cup of ale for myself. The beverage here was less watered down than that at the Gorge's but I managed to quaff it back all the same, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand nonchantly when I was finished. _Dwarf maiden?_ Let them eat their words when I could prove myself as capable as any dwarf male. 

"You needn't worry," I said, as the silence drew on. "It wasn't me who took them. A plague did it, seventy years back. But my Da was at Azanulbizar. Runin, son of Rar."

"Aye, I remember him," Balin said, quietly. "And I suppose his daughter wishes to follow in his footsteps?"

"Aye, I do." Not that I had any firm memory of the dwarf, but it made a better reason for joining the quest than fleeing the authorities. "So when can I start?"

"I still don't know if-"

So it would have to be Plan B. Fishing through my pockets, I drew out a bag of coins and dropped it on the table.

"A fee for taking me on. I can supply some more later on the journey if need be. I assume gold's in short supply at this point in the process."

Both dwarves stared at the bag in surprise. After a long moment, Balin spoke out first.

"Where did you-"

"It doesn't matter," I said quickly, sliding the bag towards them. "What matters is that this isn't just a whimsical idea. I've thought this through long and hard and it's about time I saw some more of the world. Y'know, follow in my Da's footsteps and all. There isn't really much for me here anymore anyway, not with my family gone and all that." Not much other than a lengthy prison sentence.

Balin sighed, and then fumbled in his pockets for a scrap of parchment which he then sought to unfold, whilst Oin and I pushed the remaining cups of ale and the shield aside. The finished piece almost covered the entire table. My brow furrowed as I stared down at the unfamiliar script, only really making out one word in twenty.

"Just standard policy really," Balin seemed to note my difficulty. "What to do in the event of injury and so forth..."

"Yes, yes," I said, impatiently, taking his quill and scribbling my usual cross for a signature at the bottom of the piece, beneath a line of other signatures. "So when can I start?"

"We'll be meeting in Hobbiton on the day after the next full moon..." Balin paused. "You do know where Hobbiton is?"

I nodded, although my knowledge of the world east of the Lune was flimsy at best. I'd be sure to find out where Hobbiton was soon enough.

"Our... friend, I suppose, will be setting a marker for where we plan to meet. I guess we'll see you then, ...?" He squinted down at my signature.

"Nithi."

"Nithi then. Well, good doing business with you, lassie. We'll see you then, unless you'd like us to arrange someone to show you the way..."

"That won't be necessary." I stood up and shook both of the dwarves' hands. Oin merely continued to fiddle with his hearing aid as he had done throughout the conversation, but Balin seemed kindly enough. He did pocket the gold after all, but reluctantly and only, i noted, after I had gathered my things together. 

"See you then," he said. "Have a safe journey then now, lassie, and we'll see you in Hobbiton."

The tavern was full enough to conceal my exit. Walking closely to a leaving party of dwarves, I was able to slip out into a side tunnel just as a pair of Night Watch guards arrived through the main entrance. I did not see if they were the same pair as before- I had my head down low and my hood up at this point- but they did not call out after me.

Down the side tunnels, the party went. Most of their members were too tipsy on the house's beverage to acknowledge my presence, but, just as they turned west for the main tunnel, I turned east and slipped through another side tunnel. Whilst I was unfamiliar with the main residential area, I was familiar enough with these tunnels; the ones that led to the mountainside and the eastern road. 

A guard stood as usual at the exit, but the dwarf was already half-asleep, and only nodded me past without a word. He didn't seem to notice my heaped bedroll or the shield on my back. He merely closed his eyes and rested back against the post. 

And as easy as that, I escaped justice and left my old home without even a final glance over my shoulder. The east road was nothing more than a rocky trail down the mountain, treacherous in the moonlight, but I was keen to make as much distance between me and the Blue Mountains before any alarms were raised. I could only hope that old Balin did not stay around long enough to link his latest recruit with the identity of a missing felon.


	2. The Hobbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nithi makes it to Hobbiton and meets the rest of Thorin Oakenshield's Company.

By the time I reached the outskirts of the Shire, three weeks had passed since leaving Ered Luin, and I was no longer looking over my shoulder at the smallest noise. The journey down from the mountains had been a cold, lonely affair, and even I was looking forward for the opportunity to seeing civilisation again. Aye, there were travellers on the road, but they were not always the sort that a dwarf walking alone would necessarily want to start up conversation with. So I stuck to road's edge; to the forest paths and lone mountain trails, until the landscape began to flatten into the fat, fertile pastures. It was from Lake Evendim that a fellow traveller pointed out the Bywater and I followed this tributary down as it widened into Hobbiton. 

The Shire, I had to admit, was certainly a pretty enough place, even though the folk that lived there were perhaps the oddest I had ever encountered. I was used to dim caverns, living in the shadows of mountains and dense forest, so walking through fields and villages of strangely shaped houses was a new experience for me. The folk there were as strange as their houses; small folk, smaller even than a dwarf. They walked around their bits of land happily enough, often with food in hand and with their hairy feet exposed to the elements, but they eyed me with enough suspicion as I passed.  _ Outsider,  _ I heard spat in my direction. Dwarves, I guessed, were not always welcome visitors to a place like this. Especially ones caked in dirt and grime, and carrying a battered shield across their back.

I arrived in Hobbiton a day before the moon and so I spent the free time I had to catch up on some sleep, clean myself up in the stream, and to pillage what food I could from the various farmsteads about. It wasn't real stealing, I reassured myself as I devoured the evidence hungrily. I was only taking a little and not enough to leave the local hobbits starving in any way.

As the moon rose on the night of the meeting, I sat in a cornfield, concealed by the long strands, and listened out to noises coming from the main road. Sure enough, it wasn't long before I caught the faint, familiar, gruff growl of a fellow dwarf.

Several actually, I noted, as I peered up from my hiding place, and all heading in the same direction. Gathering my things together, I took to the road again and followed them at a distance, counting the backs of eight dwarf heads as I did so. Balin was not amongst them, but I recognised... Oin's ear horn poking out of his backpack. I also recognised a familiar three-spiked bouffant.

_ Nori _ , I thought bitterly. How he had managed to avoid trouble I did not know, but the sight of him, alongside I supposed his other two brothers, did not fill me with much hope. He would not be in the best of tempers with me; not that I was feeling anything particularly warm towards the dwarf.

There was a ninth figure amongst them also, but he was not a dwarf; rather a man of much greater height, dressed in long, grey robes and wearing a pointed hat. 

The eight dwarves did not seem to mind walking alongside their strange companion and continued to mutter amongst themselves as we dwarves like to do. They all stopped just ahead of me, outside another one of the local's holdings, although this one was perhaps grander and more set apart from its neighbours than the others. On the round door was a glowing blue symbol, some old symbol I did not recognise, and so I had to assume this was the meeting place. 

The eight dwarves continued to talk low amongst themselves; too low for me to catch the gist of their conversation as I neared them. They also must have been leaning on the door as, when it opened, the dwarves all tumbled over and landed, sprawled out across the doorway in a comical heap. It was at this point that I decided to make myself known, stepping forward into the light of the open doorway.

The little house inside was bigger than what I had imagined. Cosy too: with wooden beams, pictures on the wall and rugs on the floor. It was at this point that I felt as if I was being watched, and turned to face the strange, grey-attired man, who had remained upright and was also looking at me with a bemused expression on his face.

"Nithi," I said, gruffly, bowing my head low enough to be respectful, but not enough to appear friendly. I didn't enjoy being looked at in such a way, as some source of amusement. 

The man also introduced himself: "Gandalf," he replied to me. "Gandalf the Grey." He added, before turning to what would turn out to be our host for the evening: a flustered hobbit in braces and a shirt.

At my feet, Nori, trapped under the weight of his fallen comrades, twisted around at the mention of my name; his eyes widening as he caught sight of me, high above him.

"Evening, Nori," I said, quietly. "Pleasant, isn't it?" He only groaned at that and turned away. 

This particular hobbit must not have been a very neat fellow as his home was already in chaos not long after we all entered. True, it was over-run by over a dozen dwarves and a giant, stooping man. Almost immediately though, my comrades were able to sort themselves from the madness of the doorway pile and were already following their noses to the larder and were grabbing what ever food they could from its bountiful shelves. 

I had been living off pinched fruit and root vegetables for weeks, and so I was more than happy to follow them, snatching up a honey-glazed ham and a loaf of white bread from a lower shelf. Just as I was about to make a grab for the pot of mustard, I collided with another dwarf.

"Sorry," he said, flinching back, willingly letting me take the mustard. I had expected at least a fight for the jar and was taken back by just how easily he had allowed me to acquire it. I studied this polite, nervous dwarf briefly: his red hair was cut into a basin-shaped fringe, evidently by a loving mother, and his small beard and home-knitted woollen garments exposed his youth. He could have been older than eighty, I thought, but I had seen a familiar shade of red hair before.

"Ori, is it?" I asked, having to raise my voice over the general din of the crowded larder.

"How do you-?"

"I know your brother, Nori. He-"

"Move aside, move aside," came the bossy tones of a dwarf I recognised as Nori's other brother, Dori. He was just as finely attired as the night I first saw him, if a little worse for wear from his travels. He shuffled past the other dwarves crowding the larder and grabbed a tray of teacups and what I could only presume to be a box of tealeaves. Yet, the moment he spotted me chatting with his youngest brother, he almost dropped the entire tray across the floor. 

"Ori!" he hissed. "With me! Now!" I wasn't too sure if it was because he recognised me from a brief glance at the Gorge or whether he just balked at the shabby state of my clothes and hair. Whatever his reasons, Ori faithfully, if not reluctantly, followed him out of the larder.

"Don't mind him, lassie," someone spoke up from behind me. Startled, I spun around, clutching my goods tightly to my chest, but it was only an affable-looking dwarf wearing a large hat. "Dori's just a little over-protective of Ori. He's not so bad once you get to know him." He grinned at me. "Anyway, I'm Bofur. That there-" He gestured to a round, red-bearded dwarf, laden with several large wheels of cheese. "-is my brother, Bombur. And my cousin, Bifur." He nodded to a wild-haired fellow, following in Bombur's wake. "He's nice enough but he only speaks Khuzdul after the accident-"

"The accident?"

"Oh, well, not an accident really. Took part of an orc's axe to the head. See, he still has it in there." I had to grimace at that, but Bofur didn't seem to mind it. "Oh, and that there with the red beard is Gloin and the one with the grey is his brother, Oin." As if introducing me to all the dwarfs in the larder wasn't enough, Bofur grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out to introduce me to all the others. "You'll be speaking to him if you have any problems with your health on the journey." Oin looked up at the sound of his name, clutching his ear horn and turning left and right. "Mind you though," Bofur continued. "You may have to yell a bit.

"That there is Nori, Dori and Ori's brother. Sneaky fellow. Watch your stuff around him. And then there's Gandalf. He's the wizard who-"

"A wizard?" I stared incredulously at the man, never having seen a wizard in the flesh before. 

"Aye, our company's very own," Bofur said, proudly. "Over there now is Balin and the bald fellow by him is Dwalin, his brother. He might look like he rolled out of the wrong side of his bed this morning, but he's alright really. And-" My guide looked wildly around himself. "-there should also be..."

A loud crash from behind us caught our attention as the remains of a cracked barrel rolled out from the larder, spilling its golden liquid out across the floor. It was followed moments later by a red-faced, young dwarf and the- by now, at least- squawking host. 

"Sorry there," the dwarf said, catching what was left of the barrel. "It just sort of slipped out." He looked up, with his wide, brown eyes, and caught Bofur and me watching him. "Hey," he called out, pushing his long, dark, unbraided hair back over his shoulder, as if he had all the time in the world and wasn't preoccupied with spilt beer and its upset brewer. "You the new dwarf?"

"Yes, she is," Bofur interjected eagerly, answering for me before I could even open my mouth. "This here is..." He then paused, realising suddenly that he hadn't asked for my name. 

"Nithi," I said quickly.

"Kili. And my brother's just in there. Hold on a second," said the dark-haired dwarf with a smile. "Hey," he called behind him. "Fili, come and say hello to the new dwarf."

Another crash from the larder rang out, before a head poked out from around the door. The dwarf I presumed to be Fili was just as pleasant to look at as his brother in a way that was so very different from Kili. He was much fairer than his brother and a few years older, I guessed, from his longer beard, braided moustache, and hair braids. He gave me a cursory look, a polite head nod before turning his attention back to his brother.

"A little help, Kili." Another loud crashing sound came from the larder and the hobbit all but wailed out. "I think we might have knocked something."

"Excuse us one moment," Kili said, dropping the barrel remains and sheepishly following his brother and the hobbit back into the larder.

In the hobbit's dining room, extra chairs had been founded- most of the party were finding their own- and the table was laden down with plates piled high with food. I had hoped to slip away with my joint of ham and finish it by myself, but instead I found myself being pushed down into a chair between Bofur and Dori, and the ham moved to the table's centre.

"Good to see you made it safely, lass," Balin said. He smiled at me in his usual grandfatherly fashion. "I see Bofur's been introducing you to the company."

From behind him, a damp Fili and Kili arrived, holding a surviving barrel between them. The dwarves around the table cheered and pushed their tankards along to be filled. 

The feast then begun, but not before Fili had stepped over most of the food in his haste to hand everyone their tankards. I was just able to save the ham from his feet, before it was snatched again from me; this time by a ravenous Bombur, who probably could have devoured it whole if his brother didn't grab it from him.

"Ladies first, Bombur," Bofur exclaimed, passing me the plate. He then grabbed a sausage from another plate and threw it across for his brother to catch with his mouth. "Balin told us we'd be having a female dwarf coming along. He didn't say much else about you. Who's your ma and da then?"

By this point, I already had my mouth full of ham, bread and potato, and wasn't expecting an inquisition. 

"Runin, son of Rar, and Gwudda," I said, having finally swallowed and licked my lips. "But they've been long dead now," I added quickly.

Bofur at least didn't seem the type to offer false pity. "I knew Runin," he said. "At least I think his name rings a bell. Hey, Balin. Do you remember Runin?"

"Aye, I do," Balin said. "A good dwarf. He was a distant cousin of mine, I believe. On my mother's side."

This was news. In the few years, I had known my father, I could not remember him ever mentioning cousins. My memories of family life were vague, but I didn't recall ever having relatives to visit us. Certainly there were no cousins around when the plague had came. I could only stare dumbly at my grey-bearded 'cousin' whilst Bofur roared and joyfully slapped my shoulder. 

"I knew it," he cried. "You're a kinsman after all. Now we're all family in this company."

"Everyone here's related?" I looked around as my 'family' lobbed food across the table at each other.

"Distantly," Balin said, in his soft, reassuring tone. "As you'd expect from dwarves of one region." 

Mercifully, the conversation was interrupted by a bout of drinking. Each dwarf, almost instinctively answering our natural call, raised their tankard to their lips and drained it dry. Our host, still hovering about in the entrance hall, may have been a nervous fellow, but he certainly could brew a good beer. I drained my tankard happily, stopping only to belch along with the others. Conversation aside, it was just like another night at the Gorge, although these dwarves seemed the sort you could leave your purses around.

However the conversation with my new kinsmen had unsettled me, more than what I had ever imagined it would. Family had always been a distant concept for me; I had concluded long ago that family life for me ended at twenty. But yet I was now surrounded by supposed cousins, faces that had been absent when I was most in need of them, and suddenly the food was ash in my mouth and I wanted to push the table away and take to the road again, anywhere but here, but I was trapped. Trapped firstly between the boisterous Bofur and disdainful Dori, and then trapped in whatever deal I had signed. 

Mercifully the dinner came to an end eventually, but only after every scrap had been devoured or thrown out of reach. As soon as I could, I excused myself to a quiet area in the house's main corridor, where I could smoke my pipe and stand around in peace.

For the other dwarves, the evening was a far more jolly affair. Tankards were refilled; pipes brought out of bags. The hobbit by now was just pacing around, bemoaning the situation to the wizard: "... The state of my kitchen! There's mud trod into the carpet. They-they- they pillaged the pantry. And I'm not going to tell you what they did in the bathroom. They've all but destroyed the plumbing!" I was guilty for some of the mud, but the plumbing at least was not down to me. "I-I don't understand what they're doing in my house!"

"Excuse me," Ori walked past me and up to the flustered hobbit. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"

"Here you go, Ori. Give it to me." Fili appeared, from around the corner. He took the smaller dwarf's plate and then threw it, past Gandalf and me; to his brother, who caught it deftly, and threw it behind him, into the kitchen. Whoever was in there must have caught it as, this time at least, there was no crashes to be heard.

The hobbit's face was a picture. If there was one memory I wanted to enshrine from that night, it would have been his expression.

"Excuse me," he cried out, as more plates came flying out of the dining room, to Fili, and then onto Kili and the kitchen. "That's my mother's best farthing pottery! That's over a hundred years old!"

Hobbit pottery of a century ago proved to be stronger than its owner's nerves. Fili demonstrated this willingly, passing a bowl over his shoulders and from arm to arm as easily as if it was a stuffed ball. He must have caught me watching as, before I knew it, the bowl was flying through the air at me. I caught it, only just, before throwing it along to Kili. 

"Close one," he called out to me, with a wide grin, tossing it back over his shoulder. 

"Can you not do that?" the hobbit sighed, looking over into the dining room from where a clattering chorus of knives and forks was just beginning. "You'll blunt them!"

"Oooh. You hear that, lads?" came Bofur's voice from somewhere inside. "He says we'll blunt the knives..."

" _ Blunt the knives, bend the forks _ ," began Kili, starting up a popular dwarvish song. 

" _ Smash the bottles, and burn the corks _ ," sang Fili, juggling yet another bowl, before throwing it to me. This time, at least, I was ready for it and did not nearly drop it. 

" _ Chip the glasses, and crack the plates. _ .." chorused the other dwarves. " _ That's what Bilbo Baggins hates _ ." 

So our hobbit host was a  _ Bilbo Baggins _ then? Whatever his complaints, his pottery and cutlery were thrown along anyway; set to a cheerily sang rendition of the old  _ Blunt the Knives _ song, only with 'your mother' being replaced with the hobbit's name. Bofur pulled out a pipe and accompanied the singing with Oin next to him, tunelessly blowing on a teapot. It was a bizarre, but oddly cheerful encounter, with even me joining in with the singing; one that only silenced the hobbit when he came face-to-face with his dishes clean, all accounted for, and mercifully without any chips to be seen.

Alongside cutlery, our host also had a plentiful supply of pipeweed, but, just as I was just about to help myself to some, a resounding knock came at the door, silencing the other dwarves' merry laughter. 

"He's here," the wizard said, and not in a reassuring manner.

It was the wizard who opened the door to the last member of the company, as the rest of the dwarves, and I following, shuffled into the entrance hall to see him.

The final member appeared well enough- he was perhaps the finest dressed of all the company, with rich furs and long black hair, threaded with grey, but braided with silver. This then had to be the Thorin Oakenshield I had heard so much about growing up.

"Gandalf," he said, as he entered, removing his cloak. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice. I would not have found it at all if it wasn't for that mark on the door."

"Mark?" the hobbit cried, jumping out and peering at the door. "There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago."

"There is a mark," Gandalf said. "One that I put there myself." He smiled, somewhat apologetically, at the hobbit. "Bilbo Baggins," he added, jumping on an opportunity to change the conversation. "Let me introduce you to the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

So my guesses were correct: it was the one and only Thorin Oakenshield, although he seemed smaller in the flesh than what the stories had told. 

"So," Oakenshield said, stepping forward and scrutinising our host. "This is the hobbit? Tell me, Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?" 

"Pardon me?" the hobbit stammered.

"Axe or sword?" the leader continued, stepping around and eyeing the hobbit in a way that reminded me of a cat eyeing a mouse. "As your weapon of choice."

The hobbit seemed unfazed under the interrogating blue eyes. "Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know... But I fail to see, why that's relevant..."

"Thought as much," Oakenshield concluded, folding his arms. He looked over his shoulder at his fellow dwarves behind him. "He looks more of a grocer than a burglar." The company laughed at that, me included. With his round face, curly hair and neatly tucked shirt, the hobbit would not survive an evening in the Gorge, let alone any real thievery. He was small, aye; small enough to climb through a window or another small gap perhaps. But he was too respectful looking for any such business.

The dwarves each greeted our leader warmly, before setting him down at the now cleared table with a bowl of soup- perhaps the only thing left in the house worth eating. Although I tried to hang back, finding myself somewhat unwilling to make myself known, it wasn't long before Bofur was cheerfully pushing me forward to introduce me to the exiled king.

"You're the lass then that Balin was talking about?" Oakenshield asked, his cool blue eyes running over me. 

"Aye."

"Runin's daughter?"

"That's the one."

He contemplated that for a moment, spooning up a couple more mouthfuls of soup. 

"I assume Balin's told you of the risks involved?"

"Aye."

"And he says you have your father's shield still. Can you wield it?"

"Well enough." My journey on the road east had given me time to get used to the thing. It was heavy, it was lumbersome, but I probably could do some damage with it, given half the chance.

"Axe or sword?" The same question he had asked the hobbit, but this time I had no experience of 'conkers' to back me up. My moment's hesitation was all it took for him to guess my inexperience.

"Well," he said, after a long moment of scrutiny. "You've come far enough now to send you back. And, if Balin's correct, you don't have family to go back to. You can help Oin out." He nodded to the dwarf with the ear horn. "He's the healer of the group, but he can use some younger eyes and ears to help him out." And with that, he turned his attention back to his soup and back to his conversation with Balin. For better or for worse, I was now a member of the company and there was no going back now. 

"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" Dwalin asked, after we all had refilled our drinks and polite conversation was passed around. "Is Dain with us?"

Thorin set his spoon down at that. "They will not come," he said, gruffly. A collective sigh came from around the table. "They say this quest is ours and ours alone." 

The other dwarves exchanged worried glances; I, in the mean time, took a prolonged swig of beer. So this was what I had signed up for after all. An army of dwarves numbering only fourteen amongst them against the might of a full-grown dragon. I had been hasty in escaping justice. At least a cell, deep within the mountain, would have ensured my safety.

"You're going on a quest?" From where I was sitting, squished between Bifur and Oin, I had not seen the hobbit enter. Not that it was the first time that evening that the hobbit had startled me with his sudden appearances. For a creature with such large feet, he was surprisingly light on them.

"Bilbo, my dear fellow," Gandalf said. "Let us have a little more light." The wizard then brought out a map from his robes and spread it across the table before him. 

"Far to the east," he begun. "Over ranges and rivers. Beyond woodlands and wastelands. Lies a single, solitary peak." The dwarves all craned in, although there was little I could see behind Bifur's mad rush of hair.

"The- Lonely- Mountain," the hobbit read aloud. 

"Aye," the red-bearded Gloin exclaimed. "Oin has read the portents-" From beside Nori, Dori rolled his eyes. Portents were evidently not evidence enough. "-and the portents say the time is good."

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain," Oin said, before facing Dori across the table. "As it was foretold. When the birds return to Erebor, so the reign of the beast will end."

"Beast? What beast?" the hobbit piped up.

"Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age," Bofur replied, as calmly as if discussing the weather. "Airborne fire breather. Teeth like razors. Claws like meat hooks. Extremely fond of precious metal-"

"Yes, I know what a dragon is," the hobbit said. 

From across the table, Ori suddenly stood up, sending his chair flying backwards.

"I'm not afraid," he cried out. "I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!" The table roared with laughter.

So little Ori, even whilst hen-pecked by his oldest brother, had spirit then? Not that he, in his home-knitted cardigan and gloves, looked like much competition for a dragon. Breakfast perhaps. Not that his other brother could boast ant experience with fighting dragons, at least from what I knew of him. It was at this point I caught Nori's eye again just as he burst out laughing, causing the humour to catch in his throat and for him to drop his gaze. 

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us, but we number just fourteen," Balin said, looking around the table. "And not fourteen of the best... nor brightest."

"'Ere," roared Nori at that. "Who you calling dim?" 

"We may be few in number." The table fell silent as Fili spoke out. For such a dwarf so young, the older ones seemed happy to hear him speak. "But we're fighters, all of us." He turned his face in my direction and I caught the fierce glow of his gaze as he looked down at Oakenshield at the head of the table. "To the last dwarf," he roared, slapping the table.

"And you forget we have a wizard in our company," his brother exclaimed, excitedly. "Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time."

Gandalf spluttered at that. "Well, no. I wouldn't say-"

"How many then?" asked Dori.

"What?"

"How many dragons have you killed?" Dori continued.

The table all turned to face the wizard who only continued to splutter away on his pipe in the corner.

"Go on!" Dori cried, finally losing his patience with the man. "Give us a number." The table then erupted into chaos: the dwarves all standing up and shouting at each other. It only ended when Thorin Oakenshield himself jumped up and called for silence, addressing the table before him as he did so.

"If we have read these signs, then do you not think others will have read them too? Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon, Smaug, has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain. Assessing. Wondering. Weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people lies unprotected. Do we sit back and allow others to claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this opportunity to take back Erebor?" We all cheered at that. 

"You forget," Balin cried out, ever the voice of reason, as the cheers died down. "The front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain." 

"That, my dear Balin, is not exactly true," Gandalf said, bringing out a key from his robes. 

"How came you by this?" Thorin said, momentarily enraptured by the sudden appearance of the key. 

"It was given to me by your father, Thrain, for safe-keeping," Gandalf said. "It is yours now."

"If there is a key," Fili spoke up, as Gandalf passed it to Thorin. "There must be a door."

Gandalf nodded and pointed to the map before him. "These runes speak of a different passage to the lower halls."

"There's another way in!" Kili piped up, barely concealing his excitement. Perhaps if it wasn't for the crowded state of the room, the young dwarf would have bounced away already, straight to Erebor and straight to fight the dragon himself. 

"But if we can find it. Dwarf doors are invisible when closed," Gandalf said. He sighed. "The answer lies hidden here in this map. I do not have the skill to find it but there are others in Middle Earth who can. 

"The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage. But if we are careful and clever, I believe it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar," Ori cried out. 

"Hmm, and a good one too," the hobbit said. "An expert, I imagine."

"And are you?" Balin asked.

"Am I what?"

Clinging onto his ear horn, Oin turned excitedly. "He says he's an expert!"

"What? Me?" the hobbit was visibly taken back by this. "No, no. I'm not a burglar. I've never stolen a thing in my life." The accusation looked as if it had personally wounded him.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to agree with Mister Baggins," Balin said, despondently. "He's hardly burglar material."

"Aye," Dwalin added. "The wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight or fend for themselves."

"Enough!" Gandalf roared. Black clouds arose from his robes as he stood, towering above us, his eyes afire. I had never seen such a tall man so angry and the sight of him was terrifying to behold. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is." The dark mist disappeared as his voice returned to its former calm state; all anger forgotten. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of a hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage." He sat back down and turned to Thorin. "You asked me to find the sixteenth member of our company and I have chosen Master Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest. And he's got a great deal more to offer than what any of you know, including himself. You must trust me on this."

"Very well," Thorin said, quietly. "We'll do it your way. Give him the contract." 

"We're off then!" Bofur exclaimed.

"It's just the usual," Balin said, unfolding the same document I had signed. "Out of pocket expenses. Time required. Remuneration. Funeral arrangements, so forth."

"Funeral arrangements?" The hobbit took the contract shakily and began to read over the words. "... up to but not exceeding a fifteenth of total profit. Hmm. Seems fair. Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by... Not limited to... Lacerations? Incineration?"

"Oh, aye," Bofur cried out, cheerfully. "He'll melt your bones in a blink of an eye." Did this dwarf have no tact?

"You alright, laddie?" Balin asked, kindly. 

"Yeah," the hobbit wheezed, his features pale in the candlelight. "I think... I feel a little faint."

"Just think furnace with wings," Bofur said, not unkindly but not tactfully either. "Flash of light, searing pain, then POOF. You're nothing more than a pile of ash."

For a moment, the hobbit was able to stand upright as the words slowly sunk in, staring resolutely ahead at the fresh paint of his door. 

"No," was all he said, before he keeled over and fainted with a loud thud.

"Oh, very helpful, Bofur," the wizard sighed.

It took only two of us to carry the hobbit into his living room, as guided by the wizard, and to prop him up in his chair. Truthfully I could have carried him on my own, he was that small, but Gloin helped me carry him through and Oin looked him over once. He had merely fainted; the words having proved too much for his little pointed ears. We left him there with the wizard and a strong cup of tea, and returned to the front room, where the dwarves were settling down by the fire and lighting up their pipes.

Just as I was heading down the corridor, in search of the bathroom, I caught sight yet again of the three-spiked bouffant- only this time alone. With his back to me, filling his pipe with his freshly acquired pipeweed, Nori had no warning of my presence until I grabbed him by the collar and spun him around.

"Oi!" he cried, spilling the pipeweed across the floor and over Mr Baggin's nice, clean dresser. "Damn it, Nee, you scared me then."

"How did you get away with it?" 

"With what?"

"Don't play dumb with me," I hissed, aware of just how close we were to the front room and to the ears of the other dwarves. Pushing him along, I leant in close to my old partner-in-crime's face; so close our beards were almost touching. "The guards were right outside the door of the Gorge. How did you escape?"

"Thanks for the warning then," it was his turn to get angry. He all but spat that back in my face. "Someone decided to spike my drink and leave me for the authorities."

"Spike?" I had to laugh at that. "If you're fool enough to drink that much, you'll black out like the rest of us. And it wasn't me who ratted us out. It was your mate, Greger. Nice pick there. Real trustworthy."

"How was I supposed to know someone would recognise him? That they'd inform the Watch and all?"

"You're still not answering my question: how did you manage to escape?"

"The bar keep didn't point me out. I was asleep, so the guards passed me by. When I woke up, the keep had sent me off to Dori's and by then, the Watch were all up in arms because you slipped past them. Nobody seemed to care I was still missing."

"How 'up in arms'?"

"They would have sent more watchmen after you if old Balin hadn't stepped in. Informed them you were coming with the company and told them to count it as community service. He even managed to cool off the rich geezer, but only after making me hand them back over to him, unsold. They dropped charges after that."

So my escape hadn't been as successful as I had hoped. And my work on the burglary had all been a waste apparently; there would be no profit with no jewels to sell off. I was no longer evading justice, but now I was more obligated than ever to stay and finish the quest- no matter how much of a suicide mission it was proving to be.

"Damn you, Nori," I hissed, pushing the dwarf hard against the dresser. " _ Furnace with wings? _ What have you gotten us into?"

"You signed up yourself," he retorted. "Nothing to do with me. You could have handed yourself in."

I would have spat a favourite Khuzdul insult of mine at him, but it was beginning to dawn on me that it was probably some of my own ancestors I would be cursing as well. Shoving Nori aside, I went to storm out of the room, only to find my path blocked.

"Everything alright in here?" Fili asked, frowning slightly as he looked from me to Nori, who was quietly cursing under his breath and scooping up the spilt pipeweed leaves.

"Everything's fine," I said, stiffly.

"Is there something I should-"

"It's none of your business," I retorted. "Now, will you please step aside so I can at least find the bathroom in peace."

For a moment, I thought the golden-haired dwarf would refuse me. Whereas Nori at least had shown some uncertainty in the face of my anger, this dwarf rather did not seem to be put off by it. Rather he stood, his arms folded, still blocking my damned way.

"Move, please," I said, through gritted teeth.

At least this time, he listened. Stepping aside, he pointed down the hallway.

"Don't be long though," he warned. "We're going to have a song in the minute."

"Don't wait for me," I threw back over my shoulder, before finding the toilet mercifully at last.

As I ma de my way back into the front room, I spotted Balin looking up for me as I entered, just behind Kili and the last dwarf to arrive. The evening in the hobbit's house had been a long one- one that had left me more emotionally drained than I could ever have predicted- and I found myself unwilling to keep my cousin's gaze, let alone to return his smile. For what I knew, from my two encounters of him, he was a good dwarf, kind but yet a realist all the same. But I still had to get used to regarding him as family. Especially as I was now indebted to him in more ways than I had ever wanted to be indebted to a being (late rent aside).

All I knew was that, for that evening at least, I wanted to sit alone in the corner, with my pipe, and without having to make conversation with another being. If that night was anything to go by, the following months would be time enough to acquaint myself with my new comrades. If any of us were bound to last that long.

Up ahead, his sombre figure silhouetted against the raging fire in the fireplace, the dwarf king was humming aloud.

" _ Far over _ ," he sang, his deep voice resonating across the room and drawing all eyes to him. Any ill thought soon quietened in my head, eager as I suddenly was to listen to the dwarf sing. " _ The Misty Mountains cold _ ."

It was a song I had heard many times before. Sometimes, usually late in the evening at the Gorge, a former resident of the mountain, emotional with drink, would start it up. They would cry it out, in an inebriated, tuneless manner. Normally, they'd manage a verse, before they succumbed to sleep, but never did they quite reach the depth this dwarf put to the song as he morosely stared into the fire.

"T _ o dungeons deep, and caverns old."  _ The king's blue eyes blazed; the flames reflected in his eyes. " _ We must away, ere break of day. To find our long-forgotten gold _ ."

Slowly one by one, the other dwarves all stood; their solemn voices rising to meet their leader's: " _ The pines were roaring on the height. The winds were moaning in the night. _ "

" _ The fire was red _ -" The solitary fire in the fireplace crackled aloud; the burning wood within, rising, falling, like stone caught underneath a dragon's breath. " _ It flaming spread. The trees like torches, blazed with light. _ "

As the song drifted to a close, there was not a dry eye in the room. For perhaps the first time that evening, a sincere silence fell amongst the dwarves. Even I, plagued by doubts at my haste all evening, found myself compelled along with the other trusted few. Our path lay east- my path lay east, where Erebor lay and where this horde of long-forgotten gold rested. 

Yet one of his companions was staring not at the dwarf before the fireplace, but rather rested fixedly on me. In the light thrown off by the fire, his golden hair and beard gleamed almost to a vivid red. As I looked up, the first to break away from the scene, to blink the fool's tears from my eyes and to  _ see _ finally the possibility that lay ahead; well, only then did I see his look. The hard edge to his blue eyes. The puzzled frown set on his handsome features.

And then the spell was broken. Bofur cracked a joke; more beer was called for. A jollier song began. And when I looked for him again, Fili was nowhere to be seen. 


	3. On the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The members of Thorin Oakenshield's Company set off on their journey eastwards.

I must have been dreaming. One moment, I was sat, back resting against the wall, watching the fire in the grate slowly die out and listening to the deep snores of the company. Then, without warning, the room vanished; replaced by a dark underground cavern that spread out as far as I could see and with a ceiling as high as the main chamber at Ered Luin.

To make matters more interesting, I was completely naked. My smelly, travelling wear having mysteriously vanished to only Mahal knew where.

Just as I was beginning to acquaint myself with the situation - I was not cold and nobody was about so my nudity didn't entirely bother me - when, from far above, a loud crash sounded out. Thunder was my first thought, even though the main chamber itself was a good mile under Ered Luin. Whatever it was - explosion, avalanche? - the walls of the cavern shook and small fragments of rock fell from the ceiling; their collisions with the ground echoing throughout the deserted hall. Throwing my bare arms up over my head, I felt my body tense, sure at any moment that the roof would cave in, burying me deep under the mountain. Yet I needn't have feared. The ceiling was chipped, peeling, but it was still as sturdy as it had always been. Rather the fragments that fell merely turned into droplets of water as they rolled off of my skin.

This strange, indoor precipitation only grew, until I found myself beneath a downpour, but with water falling from stone rather than cloud. The water though was glorious: cool and refreshing to touch, puddling at my feet and falling into my open mouth as I raised my face towards the ceiling. But then, it all changed again: the droplets glowing, darkening, solidifying, until I was gagging and choking; the liquid congealing to my tongue and to the back of my throat. It was not a rain shower, I realised, as blobs of thick, dark gold spluttered from my mouth. Rather it was a shower of pure gold.

The gold, now solid enough to form coins, bounced harmlessly off of my skin; piling at my feet, and then at my calves, and then my thighs, until my hips were submerged in a sea of glowing money. Even the gold in my mouth was no longer an unpleasant occurrence. Instead it coated my tongue, hardening it, until I could taste nothing but the sweet, pure metal. I threw back my head and laughed; the sound of it echoing across the cavern as the great gold tide only rose further to meet me, the coins slipping as easily as grains of sand between my fingers.

My laughter was still echoing through my head, the metallic taste still fresh on my tongue, when a hand on my shoulder shook me roughly awake.

"Morning, lass." The sight of the strange dwarf's face, widened into a lurid grin and so close to my own, sent me flying backwards, pulling the small blade loose from my belt. This in turn only awarded me a sore head from smacking it hard against the wall and being laughed at by the rest of the room.

Bofur, at least, took no offence. "Morning," he repeated. "Easy with that," he added, admiring my dinner knife. "You almost had my eye out with that. Anyway we're leaving in a few so best get your things together."

Blinking again, I realised, with a sinking feeling in my gut, just where I was. This wasn't Ered Luin. This wasn't a hedgerow, or a bush, or up against a tree. This was a house, a hobbit's house. And, taking in the sight of the other dwarves all scattered around the room, either stretching or packing up their goods, this would be the first early morning of many.

"This is all that's left." Balin's brother scowled as he entered the room, holding only the remnants of a small loaf between his fingers. True, the thing was barely bigger than a roll. He dumped it sourly into the round dwarf, Bombur's, lap, before storming back out again.

"Hurry up," he barked, over his shoulder. "The sooner we leave, the further we'll reach today."

Standing up and stretching out myself, I could not place what had left me more dazed: the strange dream, the early morning bump to the head, or the drink still blurring my brain from the night before. Damn that hobbit beer was strong. Someone evidently didn't water theirs down, I concluded, gathering up my bedroll and shield from where I finally found it, stacked neatly away in the hobbit's cloakroom. 

Before I left however, I made sure to dig my hand deep into the bedroll's seam and to count what coin remained to me. I may not have been as rich as I had been in my dream, but all the money I had yesterday was still with me. Neither Nori or one of his kin had stolen from me; that was a small victory in itself.

Outside, the sun was just rising pleasantly over the lush, green hills of the Shire. The hobbits sure were lucky to live in such a place. No wonder you never saw them anywhere else.

Also admiring the view that morning was the wizard, who was sat, lazily drawing on his pipe, on the hobbit's garden bench.

"Where's the hobbit?" I said, not particularly to the wizard, but he was the only one in earshot, and he seemed like the best to answer it. I had only realised then that I had not seen our host since after he had fainted and I had helped carry him away.

"Bilbo is asleep still," the wizard replied, before puffing out a few smoke rings for good measure. "I think it's best if we just leave him for now with the contract still. If he changes his mind later, he can always catch up with us."

So the hobbit had declined. Not that I could say I was too surprised. It was probably for the best that he stayed. If his nerves could not handle a group of dwarves for a night, then he was hardly likely to last the journey east. Not that I was expecting much of my own nerves lasting if every night was to be as last night's was. The drink I could handle, as well as the morning after. But the singing? The constant stream of jokes? I swear, if I heard one more verse of  _ What Bilbo Baggins Hates _ , I swear I would have been tempted to slay them all myself, nevermind the dragon. The first time had been amusing, the second annoying, but the  **_ninth_ ** ? This was why my local was a miserable shack. You had to be incredibly drunk to get into any form of singing mood at the Old Gorge.

I went to walk past the resting wizard, when I suddenly recalled something else from the night before. An activity we had all done that even I had enjoyed.

"If... Bilbo isn't coming, does that mean we've won the bet?" I asked, turning back to the wizard, who only responded by spluttering on his pipe.

"It's too soon to tell!" he exclaimed.

"He seemed pretty set on not coming last night," I said, holding out my palm. "And he's not here this morning so..."

"Yeah." Nori suddenly appeared at my shoulder. We both exchanged an awkward glance at that, before both shuffling apart to a far safer distance. For any other reason than a good gamble, I would have slunk away rather than spend time in Nori's company, but I recalled him making the same bet as me.

"Are you going to pay up or what?" he added. 

The wizard continued to splutter. "Dwarves," he muttered, his eyes raised for dramatic effect to the heavens. "All you ever care about. You'll get your money if (IF!) Bilbo doesn't join us by the borders of the Shire."

It wasn't a particularly fair outcome, nor one that I was too happy about, but neither me nor Nori seemed too keen to argue with the tall wizard. Instead, I left him to his pipe, his view and Nori's charming personality, and walked down to the gate where Balin stood, awash in morning light and admiring something off in the distance.

"Ponies?" I said, aghast as I too looked down the road. From here, I could just make out a number of them lined up, being laden down with bags by Ori, Fili and Kili.

"Aye, lass," Balin said. "Sixteen of them. Real beauties. Western nags." 

I couldn't care if they were giant eagles, I was not riding a pony all the way to Erebor.

"Will we be riding them all the way east?" I said, watching as one of the ponies balked and butted its head at Kili.

"No, lass. Only as far as the Misty Mountains. We can always get more on the other side." That's if we even reached the Misty Mountains.

"Morning, Nithi, Balin," Ori smiled pleasantly at us, as he proudly led some of the ponies closer. "This one is Daisy, then there's Myrtle, Phyllis-"

"You named them?" I asked, flinching back as one of the ponies took a sudden interest in my hair.

"He didn't, but the farmer we brought them off did." It was Fili who answered this time, both he and his brother not looking too worse for wear after last night. I could not remember seeing his blonde head after the group's rendition of  _ Misty Mountains Cold _ , but I could vaguely remember Kili doing a jig on some antique table.

Fili's attention however was not on the night before; he instead was relaying the farmer's talk to Balin. "He reckons they're strong enough to get us a good distance by nightfall," he said, patting one fondly on the neck. 

"Good," Balin said. "I'll let the others know then that they're ready."

"Hey," Kili strolled up at that point, completely undazed by his encounter with the pony or by his beer-induced dancing. His face broke out into a grin at me then- so smiley. So very smiley. "You ever ridden before?" he asked.

"What do you think?" was my retort as I tried in vain to push the pony off of my hair, just as it took a hearty mouthful of it. "Get off!" I exclaimed, losing a good bit of a hair as it was torn out by the damned beast. The boy's only laughed at that.

"I think Daisy likes you," Kili said, smiling at the pony. 

"Good for her," I said, making sure not to stand anywhere near the foul creature. "However I like my hair more."

At this point, the older dwarves were making their way outside, followed then by Thorin Oakenshield who emerged from the hobbit's round door dressed again in his rich furs. The dwarf king decided then to examine the livestock, walking past us as he appraised the beasts, as a jeweller would his handicraft. Beside me, the boys all naturally stiffened in the presence of their leader. They all stood up a little straighter; held their heads a little higher. I could only smirk at their strange behaviour before the damned pony snuck up behind me and began to chew my hair yet again. Kili's face looked set to burst as he held in the urge to laugh while the older dwarf passed.

"All ready then?" our leader said, taking the reins of one of the ponies, before swiftly mounting it. Down the line, the other dwarves followed his example; all except me, who was still trying to disattach myself from the beast's mouth.

"Looks like you're stuck with Daisy," Kili said, unhelpfully, as he climbed up onto his own pony. My swearing was only drowned out by the stamp of hoof steps ahead.

"Need a hand?" the wizard appeared by my side, all talk of the bet forgotten as he pulled my hair loose. Whether he used magic or not I did not know; he at least managed to keep the beast still long enough for me to put my foot into the stirrup and swing myself over the saddle. It was not a pleasant feeling, I found, balancing on a temperamental thing with only a length of rope to cling onto. Although, I had to admit, it was good not having to worry about the thing taking out more of my hair.

Rather I had to worry about it moving. When the beast lurched forward suddenly, I let out a loud, involuntary scream, wrapping my arms around the beast's neck to keep myself from slipping off. The company burst out laughing at that.

"You really haven't ridden before then," Kili rode past, grinning, his brother just behind.

"Obviously," I replied, untangling myself from the mane, scowling down at my saddle.

"You might find it easier to stay on with your feet in the stirrups," his blonde brother said, as he passed. I only scowled back.

"Move on," cried out Oakenshield from the front. "Before we wake up the whole Shire."

The ponies then all began to move forward in unison, following the company's leader as he led us down the main Shire road. Daisy, thankfully at least, decided to trail behind the others; bored now with scaring me, she now was merrily hoovering up the grass on the roadside. This at least gave me time for my cheeks to cool down and for my esteem to mend itself.

Our progress was painfully slow at first as we moved out of the Shire. The resident hobbits were just waking and some were already clogging up the road as they went along with their business. They all in turn had to stop and watch us pass, slack-jawed at the number of dwarves riding through their lands, congesting the narrow road even more. However, before long, we had passed the last strange, little house and the way cleared out before us into light forest and open pastures.

We must have been nearing the Shire border by late morning and I was already thinking ahead of what to do with my winnings (shove them, of course, into my bedroll for later). My thoughts however were interrupted by the unfortunate arrival of the hobbit himself, breathless and clutching the damned document in his hairy hand.

"Wait! Wait!" he cried, running past me in a flash of red tweed jacket and yellow trousers. "I signed it," he said, as Oakenshield up ahead stopped his pony and therefore halting the entire company.

"Everything appears to be in order," Balin said, after taking the contract from him and reading through it. "Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield."

"Give him a pony," was all Oakenshield had to say on the matter.

"No-no-no," the hobbit blathered on. "That won't be necessary. I'm sure I can keep up on foot... I- I did my fair share of walking holidays and even got as far as Frogmorton once- Aah!" He squealed as both Fili and Kili grabbed him by the shoulders and hoisted him up onto a spare pony.

The boys were also riding at the back of the group and soon Daisy grew bored with grass and started trying to keep up with them instead, riding up beside Kili's pony.

"Come on, Nori," Oin cried out. "Pay up."

"You too, Nithi," Kili said. "Didn't you bet five coins he wouldn't show up?"

"Maybe," I was still grouchy from before, but I still delved into my bedroll, however reluctantly, and threw the pouch at him. He caught it deftly, unfortunately missing any intended bruising, and just pocketed it with a smile.

"One more!" Fili, from the other side of Kili, shouted out. Bombur turned and threw the pouch back over his shoulder, past the wizard and the hobbit, to be caught with a cheer by the blonde dwarf. He too happily pocketed it, before patting his pocket appreciatively.

"So, Nithi," Kili said, turning to me. "We never got a chance to ask last night. Why haven't we seen you around before? Are you from Erebor too?"

"Erebor?" I said, aghast. "How old do you think I am? I'm from the Blue Mountains too and-"

"I think he meant to say if your family was from Erebor too," Fili said, diligently saving his brother some face. 

"Aye," I said. "And you two can't be from Erebor yourselves." I studied Kili's stubble. "You can't be more than... sixty?"

"Seventy-seven!" It was Kili's turn to be aghast. Fili sniggered at that and even I couldn't help but smile at Kili's indignant expression. 

"So you shaved before we left or-"

"Enough," Fili said, as his younger brother huffed. Evidently, I had found a touchy subject. "Now which bit of Ered Luin are you from?" he said, diplomatically continuing the conversation on his brother's behalf.

"The scenic bit. By the mouth of the main mine," I replied. The brothers exchanged a confused look. "I'm being sarcastic," I added. "I guess you lived by the main chamber, am I right?" They nodded at that. "Well that explains why we never saw each other."

"You know my age," Kili said, seemingly forgetting to be offended. "What's yours then?"

"A hundred," I said. The boys laughed at that. "What?"

"Nice try," Kili said. "But we're not Balin. How old are you really?"

"Ninety," I admitted, although eighty-eight would have been a truer answer. "How old are you?" I turned to Fili, who seemed somewhat taken aback.

"Eighty-two," he said.

"Well, you're both making me feel old now," I said. "So what are you, youngsters, doing here?"

"Youngsters?" said Kili, aghast again. "I'm older than Ori, I'll have you know-"

"The same as what the rest of the company are doing," Fili answered, calmly.

Up ahead, the hobbit was halting his own pony, fumbling around with his pockets.

"No, no, wait," he cried. "Stop. We have to turn around."

"What on earth is the matter?" the wizard asked.

"I've forgotten my handkerchief," the hobbit said.

"Here," Bofur said, from up ahead. "Use this." He threw a rag back to the hobbit. We all had to laugh at his expression as he peered in disgust at the dirty, old thing.

"Move on," called out Oakenshield from the front and the company set off again.

"He doesn't laugh much, does he?" I said, hoping to move the conversation away from ages and motivations.

"Who?"

"Oakenshield."

Fili and Kili exchanged a look. "He doesn't have much to laugh about," said Fili.

"He does have his moments though," said Kili. "I remember Uncle Thorin once-"

"Uncle Thorin?" Now, once more again, it was my turn to be shocked. "He's your uncle?"

"Our mother's brother," Fili said, as if that made any difference. How could these pair of idiots, albeit amusing idiots, be related to the king? And if from what I heard of Oakenshield, he had never married...

"Does that make you... his heirs or something?" 

"Fili's the heir," Kili said, with a proud smile towards his brother, who only looked awkwardly down. "I'm the spare."

After that, there wasn't really anything much more we could talk about. We could have discussed the weather perhaps, or how nice the world looked as we rode past it, but I was never one for small talk and still reeling from their revelation. We rode on then for a short while more in heavy silence.

"That's probably why we've never met before," I concluded, quietly and under my breath. I then nudged Daisy's flank with my foot, as I had seen the others do, and rode on ahead, falling in line beside Oin.

That evening, we made camp in a ridge, overlooking a valley below. After a long day in the saddle, I was almost crying with relief when Oakenshield finally called us to halt and set things up for the night. Nori and Ori offered to watch the ponies, leaving the rest of us to eat the stew Bombur had quickly made up and to rest around the fire.

My entire lower body was in agony that first evening; my legs and buttocks in a fierce cramp. And I wasn't the only one. The hobbit looked just as miserable as I felt, walking just as stiffly beside me as I was.

"Walking," he said, aloud, perhaps to no one in particular, but as I was close by, I guessed it was directed at me. "I could deal with. But no one said anything about ponies. No, no. Not a thing about ponies. It was not stated in the contract-"

"Tell me about it," I said, sourly, before stiffly clambering away.

By nightfall, most of the dwarves were asleep, snoring happily away under their cloaks. Fili and Kili were still awake though, having offered to take watch for the night. As I was still in too much pain to sleep. I sat with them, resting my sore legs by the fire. Neither of the princes were feeling as chatty as before, so we sat in a comfortable silence, smoking our pipes or mending a strap as Kili was doing.

A shrill cry, from somewhere far down in the valley below, sounded out, breaking the gentle quiet. Around the fire, we all stirred, looking about ourselves. The hobbit, who had previously been standing a good way away by his pony, almost jumped out of his skin at the noise.

"What was that?" he cried, clambering closer to the fire.

Kili looked around. "Orcs," he answered, with a low and mysterious voice.

"Orcs?" The hobbit practically hopped his way over to the fire. Even I sat up straighter at the mention of orcs.

"Throat cutters," said Fili. "There'll be dozens of them out there." The hobbit's eyes widened; his jaw looked set to hit the floor. But I couldn't laugh at him. No self-respecting dwarf could laugh off the fear of an orc attack. Orcs were the creatures of our childhood nightmares; the threats parents used to get their own way. Even I, stubbornly proud as I was, was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable with just how open a place we were camping in.

"They strike in the wee, small hours when everyone's asleep," said Kili. "Quick and quiet. No screams. Just lots of blood."

Were they going to jump out on us now? Could we even survive an orc attack with most of our company asleep? Would I even be able to run away from them with my legs so stiff and sore? Could they smell us? Could they hear us? Would they be able to see the fire and- My questions were unfounded; the two brothers were sniggering to themselves. Oh Mahal, if there wasn't a fire in between us right now, I would have-

"You think that's funny?" The brothers stopped as Oakenshield stood up. None of us had been aware that the dwarf was even awake; his nephews especially. Their uncle stared them both down; his voice laced with disgust. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

"We didn't mean anything by it," Kili said, lowering his gaze; chastened by his uncle's rage.

"No, you didn't," Oakenshield growled, turning his backs on us and storming away. "You know nothing of this world," he spat over his shoulder.

The brothers both kept their eyes, downcast, to the floor. They had terrified the hobbit (and me, as well) and even while angry at their stupid attempt at scare-mongering, the scolding from their uncle seemed punishment enough.

"Don't mind him, laddie," Balin said to Kili, softly, as the older dwarf approached the fire. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs."

"We know," said Kili. "We shouldn't have made fun of it."

"Aye, you boys know of the stories. But does young Nithi here or Master Baggins?"

I was about to 'aye' him back, but the hobbit beat me to it.

"Know what?" the hobbit said, shuffling over at the mention of his name. 

"Know about the battle of Azanulbizar?" The hobbit shook his head, and the old dwarf sighed, sitting himself down beside the fire. 

"After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, our people moved west, seeking refuge where we could. Most of us settled in the Blue Mountains, Ered Luin, but it was Thorin's grandfather, King Thror, who attempted to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. 

"But our enemy had got there first. Moria had been taken by legions of orcs, led by the most vile of all their race: Azog the Defiler. 

"King Thror fought hard against him, but the Pale Orc had vowed to end the line of Durin." The dwarf sighed. "He began by beheading the king, before throwing his head at the feet of the king's grandson. Thrain, the king's son and Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed we did not know. 

"We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us. The orcs drove our kin back, forcing many of them to die on the rocks below." Around the fire, we listened eagerly: those of us who had heard this story recounted before, whether at their uncle's knee or from the talk in taverns, and those, like the hobbit, who hadn't. But Balin's soft voice was hypnotising in the cool, evening air, moving us away from our aching limbs and from the fireside as if to the heat of battle itself. 

"That was when I saw him." Balin's face, sorrowful til then, broke out into a fond smile. "The young dwarf prince, facing down the pale orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe. His shield was torn from his hands; he was left wielding nothing more than an oaken branch to defend himself. He gathered his strength and cut the orc's arm clean from his body. Azog learnt that day that the line of Durin would not so easily be broken.

"As the Defiler's companions carried him away, it was Thorin who rallied us who remained together onwards. We drove the orcs back. Our enemy was defeated.

"But there was no feast that night nor song, for our dead was beyond the count of grief. We few had survived; your fathers amongst them," he added, for the benefit of us dwarves too young to have been born before the battle. "And I thought then, standing alone on a battlefield, surrounded by our fallen: that there was one dwarf I could follow." We all turned our heads with Balin to see, at a distance, Thorin's back as he looked down across the valley. "That there was one I could call king," Balin finished his tale then, his eyes glistening in the light cast from the fire. 

"And the pale orc?" the hobbit asked. "What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came." So our king was not beyond earshot; he stalked back over to us, the heavy set to his shoulders suggesting that the lot of us had yet to be forgiven. I dared not say anything but I assumed I had been lumped together with his nephews as culprits. "That piece of filth died from his wounds long ago. Now, get some sleep the rest of you," he added. "We'll be riding again at dawn." He walked past us, back to his own bedroll without another word.

"Aye, Thorin's right," Balin said, stiffly rising back up to his feet. "We've got another long day ahead of us. Mind you to take turns, lads." He added; Fili and Kili nodding at that and resuming their watch.

"Balin?" I said, whilst the hobbit moved away to bed. The older dwarf smiled sadly at me, perhaps he guessed I would have had a question. "Can I have a word with you?"

"A quick one, lass." He led me then, away from the fire and the sleeping dwarves, towards the forest's edge.

"My father?"

"Aye, Runin."

"He must have fought alongside you at some point. Did he... did he fight well?" 

"Aye, he did, lass. He fought bravely and he lived. Not many dwarves could say the same at the end of that day," Balin said, sadly. "But aye, Runin was a good dwarf. A brave one at that. He was a dwarf you should be proud to call your-."

"Why did you pay off the guards?" I interrupted him before he could finish that sentence. The older dwarf seemed taken aback by the sudden change in subject.

"I-" he sighed. "I don't know, lass. To be honest with you, I don't know myself."

"My bag of gold didn't have any sway in the matter then?" 

"Aye, that did. It was what I used to pay them off," he said. "Perhaps I felt some obligation to Runin. Perhaps I felt it best to watch over his daughter and to keep her out of trouble-"

"I can look after myself," I said, hotly. 

"Aye, I could tell," he smiled, not unkindly. "Perhaps it was because I had my doubts whether Gandalf would find a suitable burglar."

"You have your burglar now, so I guess I won't be needed anymore," I said. "I've paid for my own freedom then and therefore, I'll just head home. While I'm sure I would have loved my cousins to look after me at one point, I think that particular pony ran off a good seventy years back. Now, if you don't mind me, I'll just-"

"You can go back," he said. "But you won't find a welcome for you there. Our kin know you signed the contract. They'll only call you an Oathbreaker and a Thief and chase you away."

"Then I'll find somewhere else."

"Where, lass? The other dwarf groups won't take in a female runaway, especially not if, pardon me, she's not well-mannered. They'll only chase you away. And you won't find a home among the hobbits or Man," the dwarf said, sadly. "Face it, lass. Whatever happens, you're better off here."

"What? Riding ponies until my legs fall off? And for what, to face a dragon at the end of it? A furnace with wings?" I closed my eyes, cursed myself both inwards and outwards: "Why did I ever agree to this?"

"How it ends will be how it ends. I can't lie and say I don't have my doubts," the older dwarf said. "But in the meantime, you'll have food and water in your belly. Dwarves to watch out for threats while you sleep. Perhaps even friends to chat to in the day. I saw you talking with Fili and Kili and-"

"No," I said. "Not going to happen."

"Maybe in time. I understand that things... growing up for you must have been difficult, losing your parents so young, and it's easy to fall in with the wrong sort," Balin said. "But just give this some thought before you make any rash decisions." 

"Fine," I said. "Fine. I won't decide anything yet, but-" I paused.

"Yes?"

"My father? Was he really brave?" 

"Aye," Balin's face softened at that. "He fought among the many and he fought well. He was a good dwarf-"

"Then why did...?" Moments before I had faced the other dwarf, full of anger and raring for a fight. Now I couldn't even bear to look at him; could just about focus on the ground beneath our feet, blinking back tears that had appeared as if from nowhere in my eyes. "How could he have-?"

"I don't know, lass." I looked up at that and saw my own sadness reflected in the aged face of my kinsman. So he had known. Even if he hadn't known of me, he had known how- How it had happened. "I just don't know."

We stood together in silence, an awkward comradeship having formed in those few moments, only to be broken by Balin.

"We'd best get some sleep, lass," he said, patting me on the shoulder. "But think over what I've said. You're a good dwarf really and, if you're anything like your old da, you'll prove to be a good fighter too. We'll teach you that."

"You will?" He might have fought at Azanulbizar, but I hardly expected much fight from the aged dwarf now.

"My brother probably," he admitted. "He taught Dis's lads to fight." He nodded fondly at the brothers, chatting together, by the fire.

I scoffed at that. "Is that a recommendation?"

"A warning, lass. They're tougher than you may think."

Day broke over the valley after a restless, dreamless night. We woke to overcast skies, the Durin princes still wide awake and sixteen ponies remaining. As we began to ride off, the clouds fulfilled their promise and opened to an almost endless torrent of rain throughout the day. The sparse tree cover of the trail proved to be poor shelter and we were all soaked and miserable by the time we set up camp again, struggling to make food and sleep with damp wood, damp clothes and the damp ground below.

The next day at least proved to be a drier one and sunnier and warmer too. This in turn culminated in a loud disagreement between Oakenshield and the wizard, which caused the wizard to stomp off in a huff, moaning about dwarves under his breath.

By evening, the wood and ground had dried off enough at least for a proper heated meal. Not that I was very hungry. If my first day in the saddle had been bad, my second had proved much worse and by the third, I was seriously doubting Balin's words. The older dwarf may have been pleased to see me the last two mornings, still among the company, but I was already coming up with plans to leave at the first opportunity that I could.

Leaving the others to their dinners and the campfire, I took myself off, only a little distance into the relative privacy of the bushes, to examine the worst of my saddle sores, to get a moment alone and to, most importantly of all, relieve my aching bladder.

The instant rush of relief as I emptied it, after a day stuck in the saddle, felt just too good for words. I couldn't remember making a noise, but suddenly there was a rustle from the bushes behind me and a golden head popped out.

"Nithi?" he gasped, having burst out of the bushes, his sword drawn. "I heard something and-" 

"Mahal!" I cried, swearing aloud as I stumbled over, grabbing my trousers from around my ankles. "What the- What are you doing here?" I growled. "Can I not have a moment of privacy?" 

Another rustle came, and then Kili came hurtling out after his brother, only to see me struggling to tug my trousers up. 

"Do you mind?" I said. The young dwarf looked, confused, from my furious face to his brother, who was himself looked fixedly at the ground between his boots. 

"What did I miss-" he began, but he was drowned out by a distressed whinny from somewhere just beyond the bushes.

"Now  _ that _ ," I hissed, rebuckling my belt. "Wasn't me. Weren't you two in charge of the ponies tonight?"

"Kili." It was Fili's turn to hiss, turning to his younger brother, who stood awkwardly before us. "I told you to stay with them." 

The three of us ran through the bushes, the embarrassing encounter temporarily forgotten in our haste to get to the pasture and to the ponies. Whatever the cry had to do with the ponies, it was our heads on the line if Oakenshield lost even one of the damned things. I may not have been the one on pony duty tonight, but I knew I was bound to get some part of the blame for this.

"Fourteen," Kili cried out, counting aloud as he ran amongst the grazing ponies. 

"Count again," I said, knowing only too well by then that it was pointless. I could not spot the familiar pale brown hide of Daisy anywhere amongst the herd and the loss of her was hitting me harder than I had expected. I had spent the last three days cursing our need to travel on ponyback, but somehow, along the way, I had grown attached to the strange, hair-eating mare. At least, without her, I would be walking along with all of my bags. Her being in harm's way had bleak consequences for what remained of my legs.

"Keep looking," I cried, as Fili and Kili drew to a stop, staring ahead of themselves vacantly. "They must be around here somewhere." 

It was at this moment that the hobbit chose to appear, holding aloft two bowls of stew as if dinner was the biggest priority right then. He didn't seem to notice me, stood in the midst of the ponies, but held out the bowls to the two other dwarves, who merely gaped dumbly ahead.

"What's the matter?" he said, glancing anxiously between the pair of them.

"We were supposed to be looking after the ponies," said Kili.

"Only we've encountered a slight problem," said Fili. 

"We had sixteen," said Kili.

"Now there's fourteen," said Fili. 

"How did this happen?" the hobbit said, as he trailed after Kili, who looked once more around the pasture.

"Daisy's missing," I said to him, choosing to ignore the hobbit. 

"And Bungo," Kili added. 

"Well, that's not good," the hobbit continued to speak. "That's not good at all. Shouldn't we tell Thorin?"

"Eurgh, no. No," Fili said, diplomatically, whilst I turned to look aghast at the hobbit.  _ Tell Oakenshield _ ? The man had all but jumped down our throats two nights before for his nephews' little joke. He had barely said a word to either of them all the following day. How would he not over-react to this?

"Let's not worry him," his blonde nephew added, although more for our sakes than that of his uncle's. "We thought, as our official burglar, you could look into this?"

The hobbit all but spluttered at that suggestion.

"Well," he said, looking about him nervously. "It looks as if something big has uprooted these trees." 

He was right about that. In my sudden worry for my pony's fate, I hadn't taken into account just how... upturned everything seemed in this clearing, nor how freshly uprooted these trees seemed. I took myself over to one of them, brushing my hands across the bark as a foul smell rose from the fallen tree. Whatever had done this sure stank.

"Something very big," the hobbit continued to mumble on. "And quite dangerous..."

"Hey," Fili called, crouching down and signalling for us all to do the same. "There's a light. Come here. Stay down." The four of us knelt behind a fallen trunk. 

Just up ahead, a faint orange glow could be seen, accompanied by a strange, booming kind of laughter I had not heard so loud or deep before. 

"What was that?" the hobbit yelped.

"Trolls," Kili growled. So that explained the smell.

The Durin brothers, without even a word between them, jumped up and over the log in unison, leaving the hobbit and me trailing behind; slowed even more so by the hobbit's damned need to run back on himself and pick up the two bowls of stew. 

"Come on," I hissed, impatiently, before running on ahead anyway. 

The other two dwarves stopped just before another, larger, fallen tree, just as a massive, grey troll stomped his way past it, two more of our ponies tucked under his arm.

"He has Myrtle and Minty!" the hobbit cried, indignantly, before we shushed him.

"He's going to eat them," he continued on regardless. "I think we have to do something."

"Yes," Kili said, a sudden idea coming to him. He jumped up and took the hobbit by the shoulder. "You should. Mountain trolls are slow and stupid and you're so small. They'll never see you." The hobbit began to complain. "You're perfectly safe. We'll be right behind you." I couldn't help but raise my eyebrows at that. Sure, I didn't want to have my pony eaten, but I also didn't fancy charging into a troll camp behind the hobbit. 

"If you get into any trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl, once like a brown owl," Fili said, pushing the hobbit forward, before grabbing the bowl and his brother and backing away.

"We'll just let Uncle Thorin know," he said, as he slipped past the remaining ponies and out through the bushes. 

"Tell him what?" I could hear Kili ask, as I caught up with them. "That we lost the ponies? He'll be furious."

"Not as mad as when he finds out you've left the group's burglar alone with a bunch of trolls," I said. "Or not as mad as the wizard will be when he comes back and realises his pet's been eaten." 

"What were you two doing anyway?" Kili asked, turning to me all of a sudden. "In that bush."

"Nothing," Fili growled.

"I was pissing, your brother was watching-"

"Can we just shut up about this?" Fili said, as we neared the encampment. "We've got bigger things to deal with..."

" **What do you mean you've lost the ponies?** " Oakenshield all but bellowed, after we had finally managed to slip out the story between the three of us. "How could you be so foolish? Do you fancy walking the rest of the way to the Misty Mountains?"

"Thorin." Mercifully, Balin appeared at the leader's shoulder. My cousin placed a reassuring hand there. "We have not just the problem of the ponies. It seems that our burglar has also been taken by the trolls."

"He's getting them back!" Kili exclaimed, before a glower from his uncle silenced him. "I thought he'd be quiet enough to sneak past them," he added, quietly. 

Oakenshield only closed his eyes in disdain.

"Dwalin, Balin, get the others and your weapons," he said, in a low voice. "We'll attack the trolls before they have a chance to eat the hobbit or our ponies."

"You," he added, pointing to the three of us indiscriminately. "Can stay here and watch the camp." 

The boys let out a loud groan at that. That perhaps wouldn't be such a bad option, I thought, if it didn't involve leaving me behind with these two blunderheads.

"But, uncle," Fili pleaded. "We can fight too."

"You lot got us into this mess in the first place," Oakenshield growled. "If you hadn't gone off with this girl through the bushes, we'd still have our ponies." He glowered then at me.

I bit back a retort: how could me going off to pee in the bushes have caused any of this? It was Oakenshield and the others who had looked around the deserted wreck of a farmhouse that afternoon. I was not to blame for there being trolls here, or for the ponies being carried away by them. If you left Double Trouble in charge, you got what you deserved. 

I, of course, could not say all of this, but I hoped my scowl in return indicated some of it.

"Please, uncle," Kili begged. "Let us make this right. Let us fight too."

"Fine," Oakenshield said finally, grabbing his sword and shouting for the others. "You lot can run on ahead. But don't break cover until the rest of us join you."

Dismissed, we crossed the camp, grabbed what we could of our things, and headed back into the bushes.

"Go back," Fili said, over his shoulder to me, only realising I was there after I managed to knock my shield against a tree whilst slipping my arm through the straps. "Stay at the camp."

"Or what?" I replied.

The blonde dwarf could only sigh in reply, before holding out his sword and blocking my path.

"What?"

"You'll get yourself killed."

"I'm not going to stay by myself in camp whilst there's trolls about," I snapped. 

"You haven't got a weapon," he said, calmly. "Just a shield."

"I have a knife."

"For dinner. Stay back." 

"Look," I said, barely containing my anger. "You have two swords yourself. Lend me one of them and I'll fight along with you."

"Give you my sword?" It was as if the very idea appalled him. "Never."

"Look," I said, glancing over his shoulder. "Your brother's ran on ahead. Unless you want to be picking what's left of him out of a troll's teeth, I will seriously consider giving me a damn weapon. Understand?"

That did the trick. Fili might not have wanted to give me one of his stylised weapons, but he certainly didn't want his brother alone in harm's way either. Glancing over his shoulder to where his brother had vanished into the bushes, he reluctantly sighed and pulled something from his boot.

"There you go," he said, handing me a small axe. "Happy?"

"I said a sword!"

"It's a weapon. You want to fight? You start with that." He whirled around and began to run on again. "And stay behind me," he called back, before disappearing himself into the undergrowth.

"As if I would," I shouted back, momentarily stopping to admire the axe's shine in the moonlight; the feel of its handle. I had never held such a fine weapon before, even if it wasn't a sword. Holding up my shield and grasping the axe, I too followed the Durin prince into the bushes, where the loud clashes of steel and shouts told me that the battle had already begun.


	4. Trolled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company get into their first spot of bother.

Bursting out from the undergrowth, axe drawn and shield up, I had no real idea of what to expect on the other side. The shouts ahead, the clash of iron and steel, the growls of the trolls and the anguished cries of the ponies - these only worked to heat my blood up. Was this what a battle felt like? Your heart thumping in your chest; your spit caught in your throat. It was like the feeling you get before a job - and not a legal job at that, mind you. Aye, there was fear. The same dry mouthed, dry lipped sense of foreboding. But there was something much deeper to it too. Exhilaration. This was no heist; this was no pickpocket. There'd be no need for secrecy here. I only had to throw myself into the clearing and at the first troll-like thing I could find.

There was light, at least, in the clearing the trolls had made home; unattended flames licked up the side of a great cauldron, a pot large enough for three dwarves to sit in. I had expected the trolls to be big - even the one I had seen from a distance seemed huge - yet the sight of the cauldron stunned me. I found myself still, only able to dumbly stare at it as around me, the clearing descended into a mad rush of chaos.

I had to snap out of it. Had to get my mind back into the present. Here and now. Breathe. Blink. Breathe. Blink. Blink. Ahead of me, Bofur and Nori attacked at the legs of one large, grey brute. Their mouths were moving; the troll's mouth opened to roar in pain and yet I could barely hear them. My heart pounding loudly in my ears deafened me to the worst of the din. Rather it was not the sound of its footsteps that signalled the troll running at me. Rather it was the sudden quaking of the ground at my feet.

I was the veteran of a couple fistfights, both in the Gorge and in various alleyways and dark corners. I wasn't a stranger to taking a punch, nor was I a stranger to giving a few myself. Yet these fights had all been against dwarves in various states of inebriation. Not a fully-grown, furious and fearsomely sober troll.

But, then again, never had I been in such a good position like this before: my back covered by others and a real, well-forged weapon in my hands. This was no broken bottle. No curled up fist. I had an axe, I had a shield. This would almost be too fun.

The troll above me swung his great fist, hitting me with the foulest of stenches if not immediately his fist, and went to smash my head in. Instinctively, I threw my shield up over my head and crouched low, only for the brute's fist to crash harmlessly against the rounded thing. A loud crack came from the shield, but it remained intact. The impact rather startled the beast; he roared and stumbled back, clutching his fist, into the blows of Bofur and Nori with their mattock and mace.

Spinning around, axe raised, I looked for my next target, but only caught the sight of a familiar red waistcoast and yellow breeches flashing across my peripheral vision. The hobbit at least was still alive, albeit distinctively damper and slimier than when we had last seen him. Green goo dripped from his arms as he crept past, careful to keep out of the worst of the fighting. His beady, little eyes were onto something. What was he-

"Look out," Fili's voice snapped me back into the fight, just as another grey, troll fist swung down at my head. This time, I merely ducked it easily; the brute had been distracted by the sudden appearance of Kili, sliding on his knees between the troll's legs as his sword swung out and sliced the back of the beast's knee. This troll howled, crying out again when I myself swung my arm and embedded my borrowed axe into the front of his calf. When the beast finally turned to look down at what had hit it, I was already off: following Kili out underneath the legs and onto the next troll.

This was just way too much fun, I thought, darting past the fighting dwarves and under the legs of the trolls. The great, lumbering beasts could barely keep up with us; we were all far too quick for their little brains to catch up with. Beside me, the other dwarves fought, moving instinctively as if one. Had they trained much together previously for this quest? Some of the moves they pulled could only have been predestined.

Caught up in the thrill of it all, my focus had drifted and it was brought back with a crashing blow to the back of my head which sent me flying into little Ori and sending us sprawling to the floor.

"Sorry," the little dwarf said, pointlessly, helping me back up even in the middle of a fight. I could only spit out blood in reply. 

From across the clearing, Oin had just been sent also flying back by the troll. He could not stand up so easily and so could only cower helplessly below as one of the trolls moved over him. Leaving Ori to his slingshot and mumbled apologies, I raced past him, the tang of blood still fresh on my lips. 

"Oi, lass." Up ahead Dwalin was crouching down. He too had spotted Oin in danger, but he had spotted an opportunity. He nodded to his hands, cupped as they were into a little stirrup. Throwing myself forward, I jumped, one foot barely landing into Dwalin's hand, before the muscled dwarf had sent me flying up into the air. I crashed painfully into the troll's back; so hard, even the thick-skinned beast felt it, shouting out in surprise and pain. My axe had embedded itself into the troll's shoulder when I landed and this was what stopped me from falling back to the ground as the stupid thing spun around and around on the spot. 

It didn't last long though. The troll shook violently; the axe came loose, sending both me and it spiralling to the ground. This collision was hard enough to knock the air from my lungs, but at least someone had thought to help the group's healer up. I felt like I was going to need him later.

One of the trolls made a grab for Ori, clutching the young dwarf up in the air by his hair. Throwing himself over the troll's cauldron, Dwalin now rolled across, only for Oakenshield to appear, jump onto Dwalin's back and leap at the beast, striking its arm with his sword as he did so and freeing Ori. 

It was then that I saw the hobbit again - the damned thing always seemed to be getting in my line of vision. He was only a few yards away, sawing at the rope of the ponies' enclosure with a large utensil that must have belonged to the trolls. Amidst the chaos, he was successful: the ponies all charged out in a panicked stampede and, had I not rolled away in time, I would have been right underneath it.

"Daisy!" I tried to shout out, but I found myself only capable of a wheeze. Not that it would have mattered: the ponies were frightened out of their minds and so simply just fled into the night. 

Their escape only brought the hobbit back to the trolls' attention. From where I was, sprawled still on the floor with my aching chest and sore head, I spied one of them launching themselves at him. Reluctantly, and in much pain, I tried to lift myself up, at least if anything to make it look like I had tried, but my efforts weren't needed. Fili too sighted this. He slid under another troll's legs, swinging both swords as he did so, in a flash of golden braids, but it was too late.

Clutching my chest, I used my shield as a prop to stand myself up. I could breathe still, I found, and I could walk - nothing too broken then. Rather what had broken turned out to be the other dwarves' spirit. The horror on their faces, their weapons stilled, told me that this was no victory.

"Bilbo!" Kili shouted; he at least was willing to throw himself forward only to be restrained by his uncle.

Sure enough the trolls had the hobbit: two holding an arm and a leg each whilst the other held a massive fork threateningly over our heads. The fighting having stopped (and the world no longer spinning so much), I was shocked to find that there were only three trolls. After all the mad dashing about, I had imagined I was fighting at least five of them. 

"Lay down your arms," one of them growled. "Or we'll wip his off!" 

I raised my shield up again, gripped the axe handle. My head was aching, my vision somewhat shaky. I didn't want to fight anymore. I was tired and sore and all I wanted to do was to wash the blood from my mouth and to crawl up somewhere. Yet I held my stance, as did the other dwarves, waiting for... For what? A signal? A sign? For the trolls to start tearing off limbs? I turned to look at the dwarf next to me, who turned out to be Fili with both of his swords still intact and drawn, but his eyes were on his uncle.

Sighing, the dwarf king plunged his sword into the soft ground. The other dwarves followed suit. Even I, reluctantly, threw my father's shield down and the axe with it. Only Kili and Ori were the last of us to do so, throwing their weapons down both with an indignant huff. 

As one troll held the hobbit, the other two herded us together, splitting us up between those who they could cook now and those who they fancied to cook later. Somewhere, in their odd, little camp, they had kept a spit and rope, and, having taken our weapons and our outer clothing, looked set to roast half of us over the fire.

I must have hit my head harder than what I had first imagined as I was struggling to keep my vision in focus as the trolls wound the rope tightly around me and the others. I could only just about keep my head up whilst they tied me between Dori and Ori on the great spit. The others - the cursed hobbit included - were stuffed into bags and left on the side. We, evidently the most tastiest looking of the bunch, were placed over the fire and left to slowly suffer over its heat.

To make matters worse, the trolls would not shut up, nor would the dwarves tied around me. If I had to die like this, roasting in my own juices, I at least had the right to do so in peace and quiet. Each word, each shout, was like my head hitting the ground all over again. As if the moronic trolls knew of and delighted in my pain, they began to loudly row over just the right way to cook us.

"Don't bother cooking them," one of them said.  _ Yes, listen to him _ , I thought. "Let's just sit on them and squash them into jelly."  _ No, on second thoughts, don't!  _ If I had to die, being spit-roasted seemed a far more dignified option.

"They should be sauteed," another spoke up. "And grilled with a sprinkle of sage." 

"Nevermind the seasoning!" the third one said. "We ain't got all night. Dawn ain't far away, let's get a move on. I don't fancy being turned to stone."

The continuous turning motion of the spit as well as the sore head and the damned heat from the fire was making me incredibly nauseous. If I had eaten Bombur's stew earlier, I would likely have seen it return by now, as the spit moved relentlessly around. 

"Wait, you're making a terrible mistake!" the hobbit then decided to shout out. Had he only just realised that?

Beside me, Dori shouted back: "You can't reason with them. They're half-wits."

"Half-wits?" cried Bofur, from the other end of the spit. "What does that make us?"

I would have shouted something then myself, but opening my mouth seemed like a risky move at this point. 

"I- I meant about the seasoning," the hobbit continued.

"What about the seasoning?" one of the trolls growled.

"Well, have you smelt them? You're going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up," the hobbit continued, further lowering himself in my opinion, if it was possible for him to go much lower.

He was not winning over the other dwarves either. They all yelled and swore at him then; 'traitor' being possibly the politest thing said. 

"What do you know about cooking dwarf?" the troll by the spit said.

"No," his friend said. "Let the burglar hobbit talk."

"The secret to cooking dwarf is- erm," said the hobbit, hesitating for a moment. Did he think to win them over so they wouldn't cook him? "The-the secret is to... skin them first." 

Oh, how we loved that.

"Tom," the troll said. "Get me filleting knife." 

"What a load of wubbish," the troll on the spit said. "I've eaten plenty with their skins on. Clothes and boots and all."

"He's right," the troll called Tom said, standing up and grabbing at one of the bagged dwarves. The spit and the clearing were moving too fast for me to catch just who was grabbed. "Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf. Nice and crunchy."

"Not- not- not that one," the hobbit stammered. "He's infected." Infected?

"You what?"

"Yeah, he's got worms," the hobbit said. "In his tubes." The troll yelped in disgust at that and threw the bagged dwarf (Bombur, as I later found out) down. From the winded sound of the other bagged dwarves, he landed on the rest of them. "In fact, they all have. They're infested with parasites. Terrible business; I really wouldn't risk it if I was you."

Parasites? First, he'd have them skin us, and now he was going on about us being infested? I'd never had a parasite in my life. Who did this toffee-nosed hobbit think he was? Was he some friend to trolls now? Traitorous curr, did it suit him to insult us as well? 

"We don't have parasites!" I recognised Kili's voice summing up just what the rest of us thought. "You have parasites!" If the rest of us were over-grown children that is.

But something seemed to change the minds of the bagged dwarves down below. Suddenly, they were all confessing to being infested; confessing to owning parasites as big as their arms and bigger yet!

Beside me, the other dwarves on the spit spoke out: "We're riddled. Yes, we're riddled."

I vowed then, if we survived, to never let another dwarf touch my things again.

"What would you have us do then?" a troll said. "Let them all go?!" He growled. "You don't think I know what you're up to? This little ferret's taking us for fools!"

"Ferret?" said the hobbit, indignantly.

"Fools?" another troll exclaimed.

"May the dawn take you all!" From somewhere high above us, a loud cry rang out across the clearing. I might not have been able to see him clearly- other than a blurred, grey figure against the lightening sky- but I could recognise the deep voice of the wizard. He'd returned and just in time.

"Who's that?" a troll said.

"I don't know," his friend replied. "Can we eat him too?"

There was a loud crack - a boulder was split in two with one blow of the wizard's staff - and then a flash of white light flooded us, blinding us all momentarily, while the trolls shrieked out above us. The spit mercifully stopped rotating as had my stomach.

All I could see below me was the fire, orange and red blurs swimming across my vision as I grew accustomed to the bright dawn sunshine; the flames' heat blazing uncomfortably hot against my face. The troll's shrieks lasted only for a moment and were drowned out by the other dwarves' cheers. I could only smile weakly as I realised that, for today at least, I was not going to end up as any being's breakfast. 

It took the other dwarves and the wizard a good bit of time to lift us all off of the spit and to untangle us from it. The sunlight had, as the troll had forewarned, turned the beasts into stone. They now sat, as harmless as a triad of ugly statues, around the dying fire. Just to be sure, the wizard knocked one of them with his staff, but the great, dumb thing did not move and merely stared ahead with its blind, stone eyes.

The spit may have stopped spinning, I realised, as I pulled the remaining pieces of rope from me, but the world hadn't. Around me, the mass of green and brown and colourful figures bobbed queasily up and down. It took me a little while, with my blurred vision, to find where the trolls had dumped my stuff behind the bushes, but Fili (or really two of him) had beaten me to it, already fitting the small axe back into his boot. 

"Would have been easier with a sword," I grumbled, pushing past him and grabbing my tunic up from the floor. Now that I was no longer above a roaring fire, the early morning air was too cool for me to stand around in just my undershirt and braies. I pulled the woollen thing up over my head, wincing as I stretched my sore back and shoulders. 

"You didn't do too badly with it," he replied, dryly. The two Filis did not look too worse for wear from the encounter, but I hadn't recalled him being tied to the spit as well.

Kili came running over at that point; his face broken out into his regular grin. "Uncle reckons there's a cave up ahead where the trolls kept their treasure and..." He paused then, his grin faltering. "You alright, Nithi? You don't er-... you don't look too good."

"I'm fine," I said, not that I felt it. The floor was suddenly looking a lot comfier than it had before. And a lot closer. 

"Hey, Oin," Kili shouted, from somewhere above me. He knelt down by my head with his brother on my other side, and continued to shout out in that damned, loud voice of his: "Nithi's just fainted." That certainly grabbed the other dwarves' attention.

"I haven't," I grumbled, clutching my head. "Get off me," I added, pushing his arms away as Kili attempted to scoop me up. My head may have been banging, but I could just about hold him off long enough for the healer to arrive.

"What's the matter, lads?" Oin said, standing above us.

"I don't know," said Fili. "One minute she was talking to us; the next, she fell."

"I can still talk," I said. "And walk. Just..." I winced. "Give me something for this headache."

Oin sighed and gestured for the brothers to sit me up. This time, I did not fight back, but let them do it, only wincing as the old dwarf began to poke around at the back of my head.

"Dried blood," he said, opening up one of his boxes. Inside, I could just make out various clumps of dried herbs and bottles. "She must have hit her head when she fell off of the troll."

"She can still hear you," I grumbled.

"Headache? Dizziness? Nausea? Blurred vision?" I nodded for each and the old dwarf pulled out a bottle in which sat a couple green leaves. "Chew this," he said, handing it to me. "And, lads, help her back on her feet. She'll need to take it easy for a couple of days, but she should be fine."

"I can walk, you know," I said, as Oin went off to check the others.

"You were doing so well at that before," said Kili. He took one arm and his brother took the other so that I had both arms thrown around each lad. Slowly, they both rose until we were all back to our feet, with me as a useless ragdoll between them. 

I was too exhausted though to seriously complain and both brothers were strangely gentle with me, not taking too many big steps. They were their usual chatty selves, but I found myself unable to rebuke them for only making my head hurt even more. Rather I just quietly let them walk me across the clearing to where Balin and his brother were standing, talking low amongst themselves. They soon shut up as we neared, turning around to face us, both looking somewhat uneasy. 

"I'm not dead yet," I said, looking between from one grave face to another.

Dwalin only scoffed at that, grabbed his warhammer up and walked away. 

"You alright, lassie?" Balin asked.

"Never better," I replied, and the old dwarf smiled at that. He fell alongside the three of us as we walked to join the others. 

"Don't mind, Dwalin," he said. "It could have been any of us injured. We're lucky really not more of us got hurt. He just doesn't take too kindly to almost being eaten by trolls."

Don't we all, I thought, as the four of us followed the rest past the stone trolls and up to where Oakenshield had spotted a cave opening. This must be where the supposed horde would be. Whatever leaves Oin had given me were working wonders on my head. By the time we reached the cave, I no longer needed the Durin brothers for support, happily slipping my arms from around their shoulders and taking a few steps unaided. Kili however didn't seem so sure.

"I'm fine," I finally snapped, after he began fussing, and stepped out of his grip. "See? Never better."

"If you're sure," he said, reluctantly. Fili only smirked at that and drew his brother away.

The stench of the trolls hung just as heavily over the cave mouth as it had done at the campsite. Only Oakenshield, the wizard, and Bofur, Nori, Gloin and Dwalin had decided to go in; the rest remained outside, tending to their belongings or resting up.

Bolstered, by the leaves and by Nori's sudden dash back out and into the cave, only this time with a shovel, I too was impatient to see what was inside - peeking my head around the entrance and squinting into the darkness- but felt myself being held back by a strong hand on my shoulder.

"Kili, for the love of Mahal, get off of me-" I turned around, only to find myself addressing the wrong brother. "Fili," I said, stiffly. "Look, I'm fine, really. Just let me see what's down there and-"

"I wasn't stopping you," he said, as Kili, his mind having moved quickly from concern over my health to a similar curiosity, began to clambour down into the cave. "I was only going to ask if you needed a hand."

"As I said, I'm fine," I replied. "I think I've had enough of being propped up to last me a lifetime."

"Suit yourself," he said, but followed closely by my side anyway. Not that I was paying him much attention as we slowly made our way down into the cave. The trolls may have stunk to sky high, but they at least had a good taste in collectibles. Gold coins littered the cave floor; jewels lay coated in dust and abandoned in dark corners. My fingers twitched at the beauty of it all.

I wasn't the only one struck by the opulence of the trolls' treasure horde. Gloin, Bofur and Nori were burying a chest of gold in the soft earth of the cave floor, watched over by a pensive Dwalin, leaning against his battleaxe. He only nodded as we passed - he, at least, seemed unaffected by the treasure.

Just as I was about to grab up a couple handfuls of coins to fill my bedroll with, I was startled by Kili, who grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me away.

"Get off of me," I growled at him, for what must have been the tenth time that morning but the young prince was just too excited about something.

"Look what Fili's found," was all he said, drawing me over to one dark corner of the cave where a bunch of weapons - swords, axes, hammers and more - lay under a thick layer of cobweb.

"This," was all the blonde dwarf said, proudly holding out a sheathed sword towards me. He had blown off the worst of the webs, yet the old leather sheath was almost grey with age.

Quietly, I took it from him and drew the blade from the scabbard. It was not a weapon suited much for a dwarf, but it was small enough for me to be able to hold it one-handed. It was not like Fili's decorated blades, with their beautiful carven patterns. The steel blade was not engraved, but light, if not in need of a good clean. The hilt was decorated, with curling patterns that formed knots of such a complexity that my finger became lost when tracing over them. 

"Well, what do you think?" Kili said, eagerly waiting for my reaction.

"Nice blade," I said, sheathing it and holding it back out to Fili. "Haven't you got enough blades already though?"

The two brothers exchanged a look. 

"It's not for me," Fili said. "It's for you."

"For me?" I replied, dumbly, looking between the two to try and catch the joke, but both seemed deadly serious. 

"You might as well take it while we're here," said Kili.

"Then you won't need to borrow my axe next time," added Fili.

"Thanks." It must have been the heavy layer of dust on the scabbard, but my voice sounded more choked up than normal. Not that I wasn't somewhat touched by the lads' effort. I had only thought they were messing around in the corner, not looking for a weapon to give to me.

"What have you lot got there?" The three of us looked up to see Dwalin watching us. The older dwarf held out his hand and silently I handed the sheathed sword to him, waiting with bated breath for him to cast the thing back into the corner. But the dwarf merely unsheathed it, turned it over a few times in his large hands before sheathing it and throwing it back to me.

"Not bad," he said. "But not a dwarvish blade. That one was forged by a Man."

"So?" I said.

"So it won't be as good," the older dwarf said. "But it'll keep off a few trolls if you manage to stand up long enough," he added, dryly, much to the Durin brothers' amusement.

"Let's leave this foul place. Come on, let's go," Oakenshield called from the cave mouth. "Bofur, Gloin, Nori, Fili, Kili, Nithi."

Whilst the lads went on ahead, I took a moment just to grab up a few of the coins from the cave floor only for Oakenshield to bark my name again. Flushing, I stuffed the coins into the pockets of my trousers and followed the others outside. 

The air out here was sweeter and fresher than it had been in the cave and I was a good deal richer and better equipped than I had been when I had entered it. Strapping the scabbard to my belt, I unsheathed and sheathed the sword a few times, enjoying the feel of it in my hands. It was heavier than Fili's axe and not as pretty, but it was mine and that was the main thing. 

The peace of the moment however was spoiled by a cry from up ahead. 

"Something's coming," Oakenshield roared. We all turned our heads in his direction; all hands instinctively reaching for weapons. What was it? More trolls? But it was daylight, surely not. 

"Stick together," the wizard called out, and I found myself surrounded by the other dwarves. "Hurry now," the wizard continued to cry. "Arm yourselves." Unsheathing my new blade and grabbing up my shield, I sensed a similar urgency amongst the company. Fili stood beside his brother: he with his swords drawn and Kili with his bow out. 

I took Fili's other side and raised my shield. Kili nocked his bow; Bofur raised his mattock. Together, the company stood, armed and ready, as whatever made the leaves rustle ahead drew ever closer.


	5. Old Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I only half-remember this chapter, but I'm guessing from the name that they come across some old enemies.

But the rustling did not come from any remaining troll. Nor did it come from any real dwarf-hungry monster. Rather it came from a wooden sledge, driven at high speed by a host of large rabbits and controlled in part by a mad-looking man with a large grey beard, a larger hat and what looked like the contents of a bird's stomach smeared across his face.

The wizard seemed to know him. His old face broke out into a smile, whereas the rest of us merely lowered our weapons and let out a relieved sigh. We had, after all, almost been run down by the great sleigh when it had burst through the undergrowth.

"Radagast the Brown," he said, before sighing. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you, Gandalf," the strange-looking man said. He seemed an anxious fellow: his little head bobbing up and down. "Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong."

"Yes?"

The brown wizard seemed willing enough to speak, yet every time he opened his mouth, no words came out. If our own wizard was not speaking to him so pleasantly, I would have wondered if the man was a figment of my battered head's imagination. Yet I could see my own puzzlement reflected on the faces of all those around me.

"Oh!" the brown wizard moaned. "I had a thought and now I've lost it. It was right there on the tip of my tongue!" He paused and pursed his lips. "No, it's not a thought at all. It's a silly, old stick insect."

Mercifully enough, the grey wizard took his friend (and his various creepy-crawlies) aside and left the rest of us to set up a brief camp with what belongings had been salvaged from our last camp. By now, the lack of sleep from the few nights before were beginning to catch up on me and I was just content enough to sit quietly on my bedroll and to clean my sword with a scrap of cloth I had found. The others, meanwhile, talked quietly amongst themselves, other than the hobbit who, like me, was sat on his own and out of the way.

Looking up, I watched the hobbit stare at something in his own lap. If it had been one of the other dwarves, I may have felt inclined to ask what it was he was holding. Seeing as it was the hobbit however, and I still had yet to forgive him for his pact with the trolls last night, I merely ignored him and carried on buffing my sword.

And what a sword it was. Whatever man had made it certainly knew his way around a blacksmith's forge. As the dust and grime reluctantly came off, the real glow of the steel beneath became apparent.

Just as I began to work on dusting the hilt, I felt a familiar prickle on the back of my neck. Turning my head, I caught the Durin brothers talking to each other just across the clearing. Whatever they had been talking about, my sudden attention of them caught them off-guard as they stopped talking and sheepishly smiled in my direction. I cracked them a sheepish half-smile back and raised the sword just long enough for them to admire my handiwork from where they stood.

Before I could get any response from them however a great, ghoulish howl rose from somewhere uncomfortably close to the clearing. It sounded across the small space and brought us all stumbling up to our feet, weapons drawn.

"Was that a wolf?" the hobbit asked. "Are there wolves out there?"

"Not wolves," Bofur cried, clutching his mattock tightly. He looked around himself nervously. "No, that is not a wolf." Then what was it?

Not that we had to wait to find out. There was a cry of surprise and then a giant, rabid beast emerged from over the ridge; its lips curling back to reveal a huge set of fangs. Teeth bared and roaring, the beast cleared the ridge in two big strides before pouncing onto Dori and sending Nori's big brother sprawling to the floor. It did not have time though to take a bite as Oakenshield then appeared, swinging his blade down through the beast's skull with a sickening crunch.

Before we could respond however, there was another cry and another beast climbing up over from the other side of the clearing. It too ran down at us as Oakenshield struggled to retrieve his blade from the dead creature's head, only to be stopped in time by a quick arrow from Kili's bow and a swing from Dwalin's warhammer.

These were not slow, stupid trolls, I realised then, my stomach sinking. These were massive, ferocious canines- much quicker and much hungrier for dwarvish flesh.

"Warg scouts," Oakenshield spat, "which means an orc pack is not far behind."

I gripped the hilt of my sword tighter. An orc pack? So this wasn't just a random one-off attack. Had we been saved from the trolls to die an ever more gruesome death?

"Who did you tell about this quest beyond your kin?" The grey wizard was furious. He all but rounded on Oakenshield.

"No one," retorted Oakenshield, crossly.

"Who did you tell?!" the wizard roared again.

"No one, I swear." And he didn't seem to be lying about it either. The king drew his blade free; his face contorted into an anguished frown. "What in Durin's name is going on?" he added.

"You are being hunted," the wizard said, as simply as if this was just a regular Ered Luin afternoon and we were merely having a game of tag.

"We have to get out of here," Dwalin growled, raising his warhammer. Of course we had to. In this low clearing, blind-sighted by the rocks above, we were effectively sitting ducks to these warg scouts.

"We can't!" young Ori shouted out, shakily, as he and Bifur came running up to us. "We have no ponies. They bolted." The rest of us exchanged worried glances. Not that the ponies would have offered us much of an escape. It would however have been preferable to running.

"I'll draw them off," the brown wizard said. We all turned to him aghast. Did he just...? What was he saying? There was no way such a small man, splattered in faeces and disorientated by pipeweed, could draw a full orc pack off. He would only be ripped apart and scattered across the forest for trying.

The grey wizard managed to put to words what we were thinking and in a kinder way than how I would have voiced it.

"These are Gundabard wargs," he said. "They'll out-run you."

But the silly, brown wizard would not take no for an answer.

"These are Rustabell rabbits," he said, gesturing to his sleigh bearers. "I'd like to see them try."

Boarding his sleigh, the little wizard was off in a flash, back out through the undergrowth; his triumphant cries grew fainter by the second as he rode off towards the warg howls. They must have caught onto him as soon enough a whole chorus of blood-chilling howls rose up from a distance.

"Come on then," the grey wizard called out, with one final look in his friend's direction. "We haven't got time to lose!"

Swinging my bedroll back up onto my back, I followed the others, clambouring up the rockface and racing after the wizard; out through the forest and out into the vast grasslands beyond it. Here was not the vivid green of the forest or the soft hills of the Shire. The grass here was yellowing and low, with great boulders and rocky hills interspersed across the landscape.

In the distance, we could just about make out the sleigh and the feral hounds as brown blurs on the horizon. Yet the wizard did not seem inclined to keep us to the cover of the woods and rather ran out into the grass, with us trundling along in his wake.

Past boulders and through patches of long grass we ran; the howls of the wargs behind us never quite far enough from our ears. It was a hard terrain - rough and uneven - and, now and again, one of us would fall, only to be picked up by the others and set again after the wizard.

There must have been over a dozen warg scouts if I had been able to stop and count them all individually. Yet none of them seemed to be any real match for the brown wizard and his sleigh. The little blur in the distance continued to move freely, swerving this way and that, barely out of the jaws of the beasts behind it yet never failing to miss sudden death.

Only a short space ahead, Oakenshield halted, bringing us all to a stop behind a sharp boulder as the warg pack ran past us, oblivious to our presence.

"Stay together," the grey wizard shouted.

"Move!" came Oakenshield's roar as the pack passed and we all spun around and ran for yet further cover further away.

Wherever the wizard was leading us to, it seemed to be an awfully far away place and one that even the wizard was struggling to find as we zig-zagged our way over the grassland. That was if we lived long enough to make it. The brown wizard may have been driving the beasts off, but they were still encircling us, keeping us trapped in this sparse, open landscape.

At one boulder, Oakenshield halted behind it, only for little Ori to run on ahead with me tagging along close behind him. Oakenshield however was quicker, grabbing Ori by his collar and bringing us both back as the warg pack ran past us yet again.

"Come on, come on quickly," the wizard called, waving us on ahead.

My chest was on fire, my head aching, yet still we pressed on. Whatever pain I felt now, I thought, as I scrambled with the hobbit over rocks and boulders, would be a lot worse in the mouth of a hungry warg. I just needed to focus. Focus on the wizard, focus on following him out of this latest crisis and not focus on what was coming up behind us.

It was about then that these hungry wargs were beginning to lose patience with the brown wizard. One must have caught our scent as Oakenshield hurried us against a boulder. Pressing our bodies tightly against the rock face, we all held our breaths as above us, the fierce growling only grew painfully louder.

The damned thing was on the rock, I thought to myself. And he wasn't alone.

There was an orc atop of it. I could just hear the familiar shrill sound of a blade unsheathed; spy the bald, grey head from where I stood. So too must have Oakenshield as the leader nodded to his youngest nephew.

The Durin prince understood the signal, even if the rest of us did not. Jumping out from his hiding place, he lifted his bow and shot an arrow up at the beast. It had to have hit the beast as the thing let out a shrill cry. Another quick arrow took out the orc; both creatures rolling onto the grass below.

The orc jumped harmlessly back to his feet and with a great cry, ran at us with his blade drawn. He proved no match however for Dwalin and Bifur, who fell upon him willingly with their weapons.

His dying cries must have signalled out our positions, as the ground began to tremble beneath our feet and the air filled with the growing howls of the wild pack.

"Run!" shouted the wizard - not that we needed to be told twice. The pain in my body had gone, replaced by a growing panic that only spurred me forward.

But our escape was hopeless. Gloin was the first to see this, crying out: "There they are!" The rest of us all halted beside him, clutching our chests and watching, horrified, as the beasts raced towards us.

"This way!" the wizard cried, but I found myself unable to follow his voice and the others, running back towards where we had just come from. My heart was still pounding; my body still desperate to flee, yet my mind felt numb. I could only watch as the charging beasts grew larger and larger; wait dispassionately for a death I had been running so willingly away from moments before.

My moment of numb surrender however did not last long. Grabbing me by the arm, Bofur pulled me back and, before I knew it, I was half-running half-being dragged back alongside him; my momentary despondent blip forgotten in my need to keep running.

However, as Oakenshield bought us to a halt yet again, it was not only me who realised just then how doomed we were. On a mound ahead, wargs and their orc riders were appearing; the ground still shook from those behind us. We were effectively trapped.

"There's more coming!" Kili shouted, running up alongside through the long grass beside his brother.

Turning around on the spot, our leader seemed to be at a loss for what to do.

"Kili!" he continued to shout. "Shoot them! Shoot them!"

"We're surrounded!" cried Fili, his sword raised. And Kili did not probably have the arrows to take them all out.

Realising all was lost, we spun around, held our weapons up. It seemed so surreal at that moment: we had almost become breakfast for trolls and now, in the same day, we were about to be dinner for wargs. I clutched my sword tightly, the hilt slick with sweat, regretting the fact that I would only own the pretty thing for a few hours at best.

"Where's Gandalf?" Dori cried from somewhere behind me.

"He's abandoned us," Dwalin roared, and even I spun around to look for the stray, gray figure. Where had the wizard gone? Had he just vanished into thin air as the pack drew closer? My experience of wizards was small. The only thing perhaps smaller still was my opinion of them. The brown wizard too had disappeared back into the undergrowth, leaving us to face the wargs alone.

"Hold your ground!" Oakenshield roared, drawing his blade, while Ori and Kili shot rocks and arrows at the oncoming beasts to little effect.

But the grey wizard had not vanished. Rather his familiar bearded face rose up from behind a rock not to far off, and he cried: "This way, you fools!" before disappearing again behind it.

We were too relieved at that point for any real indignancy, spinning around and running for the rocks as the wargs caught up to us. Behind the rock, we found a stone slope, heading steeply down into the dark space below. I might not have been willing to chance it first, but Bofur was, sliding down it and landing safely enough at the bottom.

The hobbit followed him then, and then Balin, and Gloin. Then it was my turn. It was too rough to slide down well but the landing at the bottom was painless enough and mercifully free of orcs. Bofur grabbed my arm and hauled me up; just in time too as Bombur and Oin followed us down.

The Durins were the last to enter: first came Fili, then Kili and then Oakenshield, sliding down just as a warg's great mouth appeared at the cave mouth.

But the beast did not follow us down. Rather a new sound came from the world above: a horn blow. The beast's head turned towards it, before vanishing from view. This new sound was followed by the clamour of hooves; yet none of us could tell just what was going on until an orc fell lifelessly through the cave mouth and landed dead at our feet, an arrow shaft protrudng from his throat.

Oakenshield tore the arrow out and examined it in the faint light from the mouth above.

"Elves," he spat, throwing the broken arrow away with disgust. Before the wizard could argue with him again, Dwalin called out from the cave side.

"There's a pathway," he cried, and sure enough the cave continued on into a narrow pathway. "Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it of course!" Bofur shouted, and we all followed him out, falling into a single line through the tight gap.

The high cliffs may have been formed close together, but we could still make our way through it easily enough; lit as it was by the sky and sun above. On and on we went through the narrow divide, squeezing ourselves around over-hanging rocks and stray boulders. There was no longer the echo of howls across the hills, but the fear of the beasts drove us forward and kept us looking anxiously behind.

Our fears were unfounded though, even as the narrow passageway widened out. There were no beasts waiting for us at the end of the tunnel, nor any more wretched grassland. Rather what awaited us was a view that almost robbed the air from my very lungs if I hadn't been so out of breath already.

"What is that?" I said, not caring for a moment who might have heard my awestruck gasp.

Beside me, Balin chuckled lightly at my amazed expression, and at the similar expressions on the faces of all the other young dwarves: the Durins and Ori. Not that we were the only ones. Even the hobbit seemed lost for words.

"That," he said, gesturing across the wide valley to the grand buildings amidst the many waterfalls on the other side, "is an Elvish city in an Elvish valley." And with that, even his own expression darkened. I could not see Oakenshield's face, but I could not imagine it to be any sunnier. The Durin princes no longer seemed so taken by the view. A slight frown had crossed Fili's features, whereas Kili merely looked uncomfortable. Both watched their uncle's back nervously.

The wizard did not seem so discomforted. He emerged from the tunnel last, announcing to the rest of the stunned company: "The valley of Imladris, but in the common tongue it is known by another name-"

"Rivendell," the hobbit finished for him, gazing out at the view.

"Here lies the last homely house east of the sea," the wizard added.

The wizard may have deemed it homely, but the very sight of the elvish city seemed to enrage Oakenshield.

"This was your plan all along," he spun around and sneered at the wizard, "to seek refuge with our enemy." The other dwarves drew back at that; we all turned indignantly to the wizard. Had he planned this?

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield" the wizard retorted. "The only ill will you will find in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

"Do you think the elves will give our quest their blessing?" Oakenshield continued. "They will try to stop us."

"Of course they will," the wizard said, and the other dwarves exchanged a nervous look. We had come a little too far now to be sent packing by some elves. "But we have questions that need to be answered." That at least seemed to chastise Oakenshield. "If we are to be successful in this, they will need to be handled with tact and respect and no small degree of charm," the wizard continued. "Which is why you will leave the talking to me."

The wizard certainly did think highly of himself, I thought, as he led us down yet more narrow slopes and stairways carved into the valley walls. But he was right, and he had managed to save us from a bunch of wargs. Yet none of us were too pleased to be seeking out elvish company. From the faces of the rest of the company - ranging from confused bemusement to open disgust - he was perhaps the only one capable of having a reasonable conversation with a pointed-ear being.

"You ever seen an elf before?" asked Kili, his brother and him falling in beside me as the path began to widen.

"No," I said, incredulous at the suggestion, although I had heard some stories of elves being seen in the nearby forests at Ered Luin. I had just never been particularly curious enough to want to see a real one in the flesh. "Have you?"

"No," he said. "But Uncle's told us plenty about them," he added, quietly.

I bet he had, and not good things either. No dwarf child grew up in the Blue Mountains without being warned about the traitorous nature of elves. No young dwarfling missed the recount of how Mirkwood had abandoned the Erebor dwarves to the dragon. Some even said that the old king and his family were there when the elvish army turned their backs on them. No self-respecting dwarf could forgive such an act.

(Calling someone an 'elf-lover' in the Gorge would automatically earn you a smack in the jaw, no matter what time of the night it was.)

But now, we found ourselves descending down into an elvish city; exhausted, hungry and... unnerved? To add to this, the leaves Oin had given me earlier had worn off completely by then. Being chased by the wargs had brought back the head pains and if I did not have the Durin brothers on either side of me, I would have feared falling into the rushing waters below as we crossed the bridge.

Walking between two large stone statues of elves in armour, our weary company came to a halt in a round courtyard below a flight of stairs up towards some of the buildings. On the stairs were a pair of real guards, but I could hardly tell beneath their helmets if they had pointy elf ears or not. To be honest, I could only just about see them. My vision had decided to play up again.

"You alright?" At least, this time, it was Ori who asked, watching me nervously as I kept rubbing my eyes.

"I'm fine," I snapped, hating the phrase by now.

"Should I get Oin?" he continued. Perhaps he was just growing accustomed to my snappy nature, or perhaps he really was concerned. I wasn't too sure which.

"No," I said, taking a step back before wincing and clutching my forehead. "Actually, maybe."

Before the youngest could turn and grab the healer, a figure appeared on the stairs. He had the appearance of a young man, but more closely shaven than any human man I had ever seen, and in long robes that seemed far too impractical for most human men I knew to use.

"Mithrandir," he announced, and it took us a good moment to realise just who he was addressing.

"Ah, Lindir," the wizard said, as the elf descended.

Ori tugged at my sleeve. "Come on," he said, but the sight of my first elf had distracted me for a moment. This Lindir fellow didn't look particularly traitorous. If anything, he only seemed to have a pompous air about him, particularly when his eyes turned away from the wizard and scanned over the rest of us behind him. His lack of facial hair was also seriously disconcerting.

But any thought of the elf and of seeing the healer fled from my mind just then as another horn blew from the distance.

Turning around, to our horror, we saw a dozen or so fully-grown horses riding towards us, down the same path we had just taken - the only path we could run to. It was like the warg-scouts all over again. The riders atop these horses were fully-armoured, and the beasts they were atop were charging directly at us.

"Close ranks!" Oakenshield cried, and a strong hand grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled both Ori and I back into the tighty-compressed group of dwarves and hobbit. Whoever did so caught us just in time as the riders rode into the courtyard at that very moment; their tall horses circling around us, whilst their riders stared down at us warily from their great height.

"Gandalf," one of the riders cried out, and we all turned to look in the direction of the voice. The elf who owned it looked affable enough as he smiled down at the wizard, but he still had the same naked chin as the Lindir fellow.

"Lord Elrond," the wizard replied, and the two began to talk in the strange-sounding elvish tongue, whilst the rest of us looked uncertainly around. With their weird noises, it was difficult to distinguish just what either one was saying. Perhaps we were the subject...

The Lord Elrond elf did eventually slide down from his horse and moved over to embrace the wizard, as if the two had long been friends. Perhaps they had. Perhaps we could safely call the wizard an 'elf-lover': he seemed to be in his element here amongst their kind. In fact, he looked distinctively more comfortable among them than how he was with us.

"Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders," the elf lord said, mercifully within the Common Tongue. "Something, or someone, has drawn them near."

"That may have been us," the wizard said, sheepishly, gesturing finally to the rest of us.

It was then that Oakenshield, albeit unwillingly, stepped forward.

"Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain," the elf lord said.

"I do not believe we have met," Oakenshield replied, coolly.

"You have your grandfather's bearing," the elf continued. "I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."

Of course he must have, I thought, remembering then back to a conversation I had caught some time back. We, dwarves, may have been fortunate to have longer life spans than men, but elves could boast immortality and thousands of years of life. This elf lord here could just as well have been from the First Age for all we knew.

"Indeed?" Oakenshield retorted. "He made no mention of you," he added, with a sneer. Had our dinners and beds not rested on the fate of this meeting, this sharp comment may have earned him more than a titter from the hungry dwarves behind him.

The elf lord however did not seem too put off by Oakenshield's ill-humour. Rather, he just stared our leader down and cried out something to those behind him in the elvish tongue.

"What is he saying?" Gloin roared. The red-bearded dwarf stepped forward angrily. "Does he offer us insult?" Certainly, the way the elf lord had said it, it did not seem complementary to the rest of us.

"No, Master Gloin," the wizard said, wearily, as we dwarves began to exclaim. "He's offering you food."

The dwarves quickly formed a circle then, ushering Ori and me in with them.

"He could have insulted us," Gloin whispered, sullenly.

"And what if he didn't?" Nori said. "We haven't eaten since last night. I'm starving."

Not that I was too willing to agree with anything Nori said, but I hadn't even eaten then and the events of the last day and night had really taken it out on me. All I wanted was a bowl of meat stew, a chunk of bread, a warm bed and a couple more of Oin's leaves.

"Do we accept then?" Dori asked.

"We don't have anything better," Bofur concluded, and with that the circle was concluded. We all turned back to the elf and to the wizard and eyed them awkwardly.

"Er- well," Gloin said. "In that case, lead on."

And that was how, a simple thief, found herself in the home of Lord Elrond.


	6. Rowdy Times at Rivendell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves remind us why they cannot be invited anywhere and Fili and Nithi have a moment.

This elf, Lord Elrond, made some excuses in the Common Tongue and waved us away, before he, the wizard and a reluctant Oakenshield moved off to another part of the elvish city. The rest of us were rather escorted up various winding staircases to a full suite of guest rooms by the Lindir elf, who seemed pained to have been left behind with us.

"If you need anything," he said, stiffly, being mostly ignored by the excited company. "You only have to ask."

Throwing my bedroll and shield down onto the nearest bed I could reach, I slumped myself down onto it, before almost falling off of it in shock. Of course, the bed was larger than what I was used to, what with this being an elvish kingdom and elves being renowned for their height. But I hadn't expected just how gloriously comfortable it would be. Or how fine the covers were. Or how soft the pillows were beneath my fingers. Truthfully, I was used more to the ground beneath and my cloak for cover. This was a luxury beyond even my wildest dreams at Ered Luin.

The other dwarves - being, of course, a little more refined than me - were less taken aback with the beds and were taken more with the various ornaments and pieces of furniture set about the room. The Durin brothers were peering closely at a carved table. Nori was handling some round ornament. His little brother, Ori, meanwhile, was gazing in wonder out of one of the room's many windows.

From the crashes and loud cheers in the other rooms, the other dwarves were having just as much fun exploring as these were. Meanwhile, the Lindir elf stood at the door, barely able to conceal his frustration.

"Well," he said. "Do you have any questions?"

"You said we were going to get food," Nori piped up, dumping the ornament unceremoniously back down where he had found it as the others accompanied him in a chorus of moans.

"Yes," the frustrated elf said through gritted teeth. "You will have food. At dinner. Which will not be for another hour yet. Please put that down!" he all but shrieked at Fili and Kili, who were in the process of lifting up the table.

"It's just a table," Kili said, but the elf would hear none of it.

"It's almost a thousand years old!" he exclaimed. The lads looked at each other, shrugged and set it back down. 

"What food will be served at dinner?" Dori asked, entering our corner of the suite with his clothes already folded neatly over his arms. "And should we dress for the occasion?" 

The elf seemed taken aback by this question.

"You do not have to," he said eventually. "But it would be appreciated if you did so." He kept his face stoic, but the small wrinkling of his nose suggested that the scent of troll was still fresh amongst us. "I could have baths sent up for you all."

Before the others could respond, a loud shout came up from where Kili was standing by the window.

"Sweet!" he cried. "You have a water slide?"

"A water slide?" The worried elf hurried over to the window. "We don't have a water slide- That isn't a water slide," he said, wearily. "That is a fountain. It is an ornamental piece, built three hundred years ago by-"

"But... we  _ can _ swim in it?" said Fili, peering down beside his brother and the elf.

"No, you cannot," Lindir said. "It is a garden feature. A place for quiet contemplation and reflection. It is certainly not a thing to swim in or bathe in for that matter!" 

"But it isn't a thousand years old," Kili continued.

"Three hundred years- that's not too old. That could be a good lifetime for a dwarf," Fili added, helpfully. The elf only spluttered. "I'm sure we wouldn't damage it that much."

Perhaps the hobbit wasn't the fussiest host in Middle Earth after all, I thought, as a deep colour rose in the elf's cheeks.

"That's enough, lads," Balin said, quietly, entering the room at just the right moment. "I'm sure Master Lindir here has other things he'd rather be doing."

"I will have proper bathtubs brought up for you," Master Lindir said, with a strained edge to his voice. "And I will have someone else bring you down for dinner." He then departed, muttering under his breath in his elvish gibberish.

"This isn't too bad," Kili said, throwing himself down onto the bed opposite to mine. 

"Don't get too used to it, lad," Balin said. "Your uncle won't stand for us to stay here for any longer than necessary." 

"What do you think, Nithi?" Kili asked.

"S'good," I replied, with a shrug, still prodding the pillows.

"You alright, lass?" Balin said, softly, walking slowly across to stand at the foot of my bed. "You don't... look so good."

"I'm-" I began, but the older dwarf butted in first.

"I'll ask Oin to check you over before dinner," he said, firmly. 

"Did someone say my name?" Even for the most deaf dwarf of the company, Oin sure had a knack at catching his name. Before I knew it, Oin was also beside my bed and poking the back of my head yet again. 

"All that running around can't have helped," the group's healer concluded. He delved back into his box, bringing out various bottles and sprigs of herbs. 

"What are you giving me this time?" I asked, wearily clutching my head. The dwarf only stared at me blankly. Groaning, I repeated myself; a good deal louder this time.

"Before, I gave you white willow," the healer said. He held up a glass bottle close to my face where only a few of the precious leaves sat. "But we're running a little short on that. Here!" he added, having rummaged back into his box and pulled out another bottle. "This should do the trick!" He shook out a small handful of pale purple flowers into my hand.

"Lavender," he said. "Don't eat it!" he exclaimed as I gagged and spat the bitter-tasting flowers back out into my hand. "Sniff it."

I sniffed the damp patch hesitantly. I couldn't deny that it smelt good: a strong, flowery scent. But it was not exactly hitting my headache the same way the willow leaves had.

"What are you doing?" I looked up to see a she-elf staring down at us. She didn't seem particularly important, wearing the same robes as all the other lowly elves around there. Someone (the hobbit, most likely) had decided to call for a bathtub and so a wooden one had been carried into the middle of the room and the room was full of elves with jugs of water.

"Nothing," I retorted, but Oin did not seem so annoyed by the she-elf's curiosity. If anything, he seemed quite eager to catch her attention- hastily budging over so that the elf could get a good look of me. 

"Lass here took a bad hit to the back of her head," he said, ignoring my incredulous expression. "Can't seem to shake off a headache."

"It did only happen last night," I added, through gritted teeth, although truthfully the incident with the trolls felt like it had happened much longer ago. 

"Let me take a closer look," the elf said, in a soft voice, setting her jug down and gesturing for me to turn around. But I wouldn't have it.

"No," I said, folding my arms. "Thank you, but no thank you."

"Nithi..." Oin began. 

"I'll take the lavender," I said, pressing the damp clump back to my nose. 

Another elf, dressed in a similar set of robes to the Lindir fellow, appeared then at the door.

"Dinner is ready for you," he said, in a high, ceremonious voice. The dwarves jumped up eagerly at that.

"Coming, Oin, Nithi?" Fili asked, as he and Kili passed. He looked hesitantly at the elf who still stood looming over us. 

"In a minute, lad," Oin said. 

"Don't touch me," I hissed, as the elf leaned over. "Don't!"

"It will not take long," the elf said, "A few seconds at most."

"No!"

"Do not throw away my offer lightly, she-dwarf," she warned.

"Nithi..." Oin said, lowering his voice. "We haven't got enough willow leaves to get through the rest of the journey. This will ease the pain and heal the concussion." 

"Fine," I said, finally, but only after Oin had shown me the limited number of willow leaves again. "But be quick with it." 

The elf sighed- a good deed never goes unpunished- but still reached out and placed her hands onto the back of my head. For a moment, there was nothing but the extra weight of the elf pushing down. Then the thing behind me began to make strange sounds - words, I presumed, in her native tongue. I could not see what was going on behind me, but if I could take anything from the awe on Oin's face, it was something pretty spectacular to watch. 

"Done," the elf said, retracting her hands from my head and wiping them quickly with a towel. 

My hair couldn't have been that disgusting. Aye, I hadn't washed it in a... well, since Hobbiton, but it could not have been  _ that _ bad. I opened my mouth to complain but stopped myself, realising only then that I could move my head freely, without any sudden jolts of pain.

"How did you-? How?"

"Elvish medicine," Oin said, with a chuffed look about him, even though he wasn't the medic who cured me. "I've heard a lot about the House of Elrond and the healing used here." The she-elf seemed pleased by that and smiled hesitantly at the older dwarf. "What's your name then, healer?"

"Agareth," the elf said. "If you'll excuse me, I had best get to my tasks." 

"And us to ours. Come on, Nithi, to dinner."

"Coming," I said, absently, as the elves and then Oin left the room. The older dwarf, in his eagerness to get to his food, had forgotten about his medic's box and had left it, wide-open, at the foot of my bed. Finding the room deserted, I saw no harm in peering inside.

It was the usual things that you'd expect from any healer or any dwarf with even an inch of medical knowledge and sense. Even Widow Tiggy herself, who had never been much of a healer, had owned some of these goods: mortar and pestle, pliers. rags. This kind of stuff was worth ten a penny in the mountain and one of the few things old Tigs could leave lying around without fear of it getting pinched. 

But there was something else beneath the rags. I pulled them aside and heard the clink of glass hitting more glass beneath. Bottles. Three small glass bottles, all nicely lined up, and wrapped tightly in linen rag at the bottom of the box. And all filled to the top with the same green leaves Oin had given to me that morning.

The dining room at Rivendell was arguably more of a balcony than a room, overlooking the vast valley below, just as the sun was beginning to set over it. Lord Elrond, the wizard and Oakenshield all held places on the high table, whereas the rest of us lowly dwarves (and a hobbit) were placed on a smaller table, squeezed in on two sets of benches around it.

I managed to find a place beside Oin. The older dwarf was already picking around at his food and so didn't notice the glass bottle I placed on the table until it nudged his hand.

"What?" he shouted out, his mouth half-full of food. "Ah," he added, as he slowly recognised the bottle.

"Ah, indeed," I said. The other dwarfs were talking amongst themselves and so did not seem to notice me grab the older dwarf's hearing horn and speak into it. "Next time, you need a dummy to try out elvish medicine, find someone else." 

Oin blustered. "You're cured, aren't you?" he exclaimed.

"No thanks to you," I said, but not into his hearing horn. Instead I grabbed my bowl and went straight for the food in the middle of the table.

"What is this?" I cried, taking a handful of green leaves up from the central bowl and throwing it back in crossly. "Who ate all the meat?"

"There is no meat," Bofur, from across the table, said despondently. "They don't seem to eat it."

I groaned (bloody elves!) and turned instead to one of the jugs set on the table. It might not have been meat but, at least from what I could sniff, there was something with a bit of kick inside. 

Across the table, Kili was staring at something intently, smiling and winking at something over my shoulder. I turned around only to find the focus of his interest being a pretty elf harpist. Turning back, I raised my eyebrows at him, but it only took a glower from Dwalin for the young dwarf to avert his gaze.

"Can't say I fancy elf maids myself," he said, hastily. "Too thin. They're all high cheekbones and creamy skin. Not enough facial hair for me. Although," he added, gesturing over his shoulder at an elf that was just passing, "that one there isn't too bad."

"That's not an elf maid," Dwalin hissed, and the elf in question turned around to face us, only for the table to dissolve into a fit of laughter at Kili's confused expression.

The harpist continued to play, no longer harassed by Kili's attention, but then a flute player joined her; standing just behind Oin and me and blasting her solemn tune down at us. Oin had the right idea, I had to admit, even though I was still annoyed at him: he stuffed his napkin into his listening horn and was free from the sombre music. 

Nori had a similar complaint. "Change the tune, why don't you?" he exclaimed. "Feel like I'm at a funeral." 

"Did somebody die?" Oin may have been able to escape the music, but at the price of losing his hearing all together. 

"Right, lads," Bofur piped up. "And lass," he added, quickly. "There's only one thing for it." He pushed himself back from the table and then climbed up onto it. 

_ "There's an _ ," he began to sing in a loud, clear voice, ' _ inn. There's an inn. There's a merry, old inn. Beneath an old, grey hill." _

" _ And there they brew a beer so brown that the man in the moon himself came down, one night to drink his fill," _ we chorused along with him, hammering fists onto tabletops, flinging food up from our bowls, and bringing the elvish musicians to a halt. 

" _ Ohhh _ ," Bofur started up. " _ The ostler has a tipsy cat who plays a five-stringed fiddle. _ "

A fistful of leaves hit me in the chest at that moment, scattering bits of salad all over my tunic and down; green, leafy fragments landing, even into my boots. I looked up sharply to see Kili looking particularly sheepish, but it was too late. Soon the whole table was throwing food, singing as they did so, whilst all around us the elves could only look on in horror and disgust.

Grabbing up my bowl, I flung the remains of my own dinner at Kili's head. Salad did not prove to be a good projectile though - the leaves only flew everywhere and hit Kili's neighbours as much as they hit him. He retaliated with a chunk of potato that soared way too far over my head and instead hit the opposite wall, just narrowly missing both Lord Elrond and his Lindir busy-body.

It was at this point that the wizard decided to intervene. Oakenshield had already gone off somewhere, and so it was the wizard who herded us out from the dining hall at Rivendell and it was the wizard who apologised on behalf of us to our hosts, even though none of us felt particularly apologetic. 

I had left Oin's bottle with him at the dinner table, but I had picked up another, larger bottle on my way back. Elvish wine. It was surprisingly good too - a little too sweet perhaps for my taste, but it was strong enough. I sat on the edge of my bed and knocked it back.

"Hey," Nori exclaimed as he passed. "Save some for the rest of us."

"Get your own next time," I retorted.

"Easy there, Nithi," Balin came in at this point, still with fragments of salad caught in his beard and hair. He held out his hand and reluctantly I handed him the bottle.

The sky over Rivendell had darkened significantly since dinner and a large moon was rising over the valley. The long day, the elvish healing and then the elvish wine on top of it all was all beginning to become too much for me. Without bothering to change, or to even pick out leaf fragments from my clothes, I curled up into the soft bed and fell into a deep sleep.

"Wake up," a gruff voice sounded out, from somewhere far away. Groaning, I ignored it at first, pulling the covers only further up over my head, but then the incessant shaking began.

"What?" I roared, sitting straight upright only to find myself face-to-face with Dwalin's battle worn features.

"Get up," he growled, thrusting my shield and sheathed sword into my arms. "Balin wants you to learn how to fight? Well, you can learn now."

Still yawning, I followed the older dwarf out through the already brightly-lit corridors and past various elvish busy-bodies, until he led me to an uncovered courtyard space, overhanging the vast valley, but entirely deserted of elves. And by deserted of elves, I mean that the space instead was taken up by several dwarves and especially by two sparring dwarves in the centre of the courtyard.

It took a long moment for my bleary eyes to catch up with the fast pair as they spun around each other in a blur of gold and brown, brown and blue: Fili and Kili. 

"Going a bit too high there, Kili," Dwalin barked.

"Are you sure this is safe?" I asked, peering down from the edge of the courtyard to the vast drop below. The sun was just beginning to rise in the distance, but it didn't seem light enough yet to make this any safer.

"Positive," he said. "Lads, take five. Get something to drink." 

The pair stopped, panting, and embraced each other, clapping their arms over each other's shoulders and showing off a brotherly affection that had been missing just moments before when they were attacking each other. 

Fili spotted me first, raising his hand in greeting, but it was Kili who shouted out.

"Watch out, Dwalin," he laughed. "Nithi doesn't look too excited."

"If you had anything to do with this," I said, unsheathing my sword and dumping my scabbard on the floor, "I will end you." 

The brothers smirked before walking off to the side where a jug of water was already waiting for them besides a watchful Balin.

"So, what do we do? Spar a little bit?" I said to Dwalin's back. "Jump back and forth? Make a nice scene for everyone- OW! What the-"

In a split second, the dwarf before me had turned, spun around and whacked his war hammer right into the side of my left arm, knocking my shield and then me to the floor.

"Get up," he said.

"What the- That hurt!"

"I barely used a quarter of the strength of my normal blow. Get up."

Sullenly, I got back up onto my feet, rubbing my arm.

"I fought against the trolls with the rest of you," I spat. "I don't need lessons."

"Aye, you did. And you were the only one injured enough to be seen by Oin. Trolls are a lot easier than orcs. An orc will end you on the spot, not keep you for dessert," the older dwarf retorted. "Now brace yourself."

The morning followed on in a similar pattern with Dwalin continuously knocking me to the floor, much to the amusement of the damned Durin brothers. Just as I was struggling to get up for the fortieth consequtive time, Dwalin decided he had enough. 

"We'll go over some more tomorrow," he said, briskly. "I think I need a dip after that," he added, even though he had barely broken a sweat.

Me, on the other hand, just slumped back to the floor, my clothing soaked through. 

"Tomorrow?" I said, weakly. 

Before Dwalin could respond, Ori appeared, running breathlessly into the courtyard.

"Thorin says we can bathe in the fountain," he gasped. "The one with the-"

"The water slide!" Kili shouted up. "Come on," he cried, excitedly, as him, Fili and Ori ran back into the corridors. 

"Thank Mahal," I said, slowly sitting up and rubbing at my sore back. 

"Erm, Nithi," Balin said, quietly helping me back to my feet, as Dwalin disappeared after the younger dwarves. "Maybe it might be best if you bathe in the rooms."

"Nonsense," I said. Even while sore all over, I wanted to try this water slide. 

"We have no bathing suits and it would not be... proper."

"I'm not bothered by-"

"I know, lass." He patted me awkwardly on my sore arm. "But maybe this once. I can have a bath sent up."

"Don't bother," I said, sullenly, sheathing my sword and shrugging off his touch. 

"Master Baggins is in the library if you want some company," the older dwarf said. "He says it's quite a sight to behold. So many books."

"No," I said. "No, thank you," I added, quickly, remembering just then who I was talking to. "I guess I'll just find something else to do for the afternoon." 

Balin nodded at that, before moving off himself after his brother. As he turned a corner, I finally let out the fit of rage that had been bubbling a little too close to the boil all morning; flinging my shield down angrily at the ground and cursing out loud. I stank just as bad as the rest of them- if not, worse after my surprise training session. My ego was bruised, my body more so; all I wanted was a chance to bathe in cool waters and forget the last few hours.

(Truthfully, I did not particularly want to bathe with any of the other dwarves, but the fact that I had been refused it; the fact that I was disallowed from it, just because I was a girl, was infuriating.) 

Grabbing up my shield, I headed back indoors, but not the way Dwalin had led me. Taking a right, and then a couple more after that, I followed the maze-like corridors until I was mercifully lost.

Just as I seemed to be getting anywhere of interest, one of the guards stopped me.

"Where are you going so armed?" a high voice rang out from beneath a helmet. I only stared at him incredulously, then at my sheathed blade in hand and at the shield strapped to my back. How had nobody stopped me sooner? Was I really that small compared to them? 

"Kitchens," I said, quickly. The guard did not seem to respond to that. "You know what they are?" I mimed biting into something. "Where do I go?"

"That way," the elf guard said. "Straight onwards."

The elf's word was as good as true as, even before I reached the end of the corridor, I caught the delicious whiff of baking bread floating out from one of the closed doors. Pushing it open a little, I caught sight of the kitchen elves rushing around inside, evidently far too busy to notice my presence. Running out beneath them, I pinched an armful of freshly-baked loaves from a nearby table, before scampering out again.

The bread felt good and warm against my aching chest, but even better was yet to come. Walking back up the corridor, I almost collided with a hurried looking elf, emerging from one room with several bottles. The elf did not bother to apologise, and neither did I, but hurried away, leaving the door to the wine cellar very much left ajar. 

I did not have much opportunity to explore it- the guard from before eyeing me from up the corridor - but I was able to quickly grab a bottle close to the door and to shove it up my tunic. 

"Thank you," I smiled my sweetest smile at the guard as I passed, clutching my bread and contraband close to my chest until I could turn the corner and hurry away myself.

Even with the large quantity of bread consumed, the bottle of wine was already playing with my head by the time I showed up to the dinner table. The rest of the dwarves, looking much more refreshed and cheerful from their fun, afternoon swim, did not seem to notice until I almost knocked over the mead jug. 

"Are you alright, Nithi?" Balin asked, looking at me with a concerned frown. 

I nodded, a little tipsily. 

"Yes, M- Balin," I said, pouring myself a cup and then taking a deep gulp of the sweet mead. "How was your swim?"

The wizard had warned us against starting up another food fight and so dinner was a more sombre affair that night. Or it would have been even more sombre had not a group of young elves come up to the table to talk to us.

"Agareth says one of you is a female dwarf," one said. No introduction. No polite how-dee-doos. How rude. "We didn't know female dwarves existed."

"They do," Dwalin said, gruffly. "Now, go away."

One of the elves moved up behind where Kili sat. 

"What is your name, she-dwarf?" she asked, causing the young dwarf's lettuce to catch in his throat and our table to fall into peals of laughter yet again at his expense. The elves, however, seemed flustered by this.

"I'm the she-dwarf," I said, raising my hand a little shakily. The elves all looked aghast at me. "Now, go away. We're eating." Mercifully, they did.

After a while, the high table departed off somewhere, and some of the other dwarves headed off to fetch their pipes, I drew Ori closer; the mead and the wine proving to be a dangerous combination.

"Want to play a game?" I said, with a tad slur by this point to my voice. The appearance of the curious elves had only made me drink deeper into my cups.

"What game?" he asked, nervously, taking a seat beside me. 

"S'fine," I said, picking up one of the elves' silver dinner knives. "'S safe. Follow me." He too picked up a knife. 

I placed my palm flat against the table and then quickly stabbed the knife in between my index finger and thumb.

"See," I said. "Perfectly safe. Now, you do it-' He did. 'Good. Just need to go a little bit, wee bit faster and..."

"Ori, no!" Suddenly, the mother hen himself, Dori was upon us. He quickly snatched my knife away and Ori's and scowled down at the pair of us. "How can you be so stupid?" Jury was out on who that was directed to.

"I didn't-" Ori began, but his older brother grabbed him by the arm and forcefully pulled him away.

"Want to play a real game, Nee?" I looked up to see Nori shuffling a pack of cards. 

"Where you get those?" I asked, but Nori only shrugged and began to deal.

Some of the other dwarves joined, some stayed and some left, until the final game was one between Nori, Gloin, Bofur and me. My streak hadn't necessarily been that good and so I had been compensating with more of the remaining mead. 

"How's that possible?" I said, glaring at Nori as once again he threw his cards down and scooped up the money.

"Luck," he shrugged, but I just couldn't believe that. I had played enough games with him in the past.

"Cheat!" I slammed my fist against the table.

"Calm down, Nithi," Bofur said, nervously. "It's just a game."

"He cheated!" I cried, jumping to my feet. "He did!"

"Shut up, Nee," Nori spat back. "Like you've always been honest with your cards."

"See." I turned to the other players. "He all but said he did it. Cheat!" I added, before suddenly grabbing Nori by one of his stupid spikes and slamming his smirking face into the table. 

It was at this point that all hell broke loose. Bofur and Gloin dragged me kicking backwards, some of the attending elves rushed forward; but Nori, swearing loudly and bleeding profusely from his nose, was already on his feet and swinging at me. It took the combined effort of Bifur and Bombur to settle him back down into his seat.

"What is going on here?" Balin cried out, sternly, as he looked from Nori to me. "This is unacceptable behaviour, especially in a place like this," he added in a low voice. 

"She started it," Nori spat out, and Balin turned to me.

"Is this true?" he asked.

"He cheated."

Balin wrinkled his nose. "How much have you drunk?" he asked. 

"A little," I admitted. 

"Take him outside to cool off," Balin said to the others. "You," he looked sternly at me, "can come with me."

"What are you playing at?" he said, crossly, having half-led half-steered me into a quiet alcove outside of the dining room. "That kind of behaviour is suited for a wayward tavern, on the wrong side of town, not in the dining hall of Lord Elrond's home. Do you know what kind of trouble you could have caused?"

"He-"

"I do not care who started it," he said. "I've put a lot on the line bringing you along with us. The least you can do is behave like you want to be here."

"What choice do I have?" I retorted. "You said so yourself." 

"You're being fed. You're being protected. You're being trained by one of our finest warriors," Balin said. "But you don't seem to be that grateful for it."

"I guess I'm just not a very grateful dwarf."

"Thorin will not be impressed when he hears you broke Nori's nose. It doesn't look good for the Company if we're brawling amongst ourselves. I'll try and keep him from sending you back outright," he said, "if you promise to behave yourself from here on out." 

I only glowered down at my feet.

"Nithi?"

"Fine," I said. "I promise. Can I- Can I just go outside and get some air?" 

"Sure." He took a step back to let me out. "But don't be too long. I'll go and find Thorin before he hears of this from anyone else."

The corridor led on to a staircase from which then led out to the gardens below. And these were actual gardens, I was relieved to find, and not more overhanging balconies. Still a little wobbly, both from the drink and from the adrenaline pumping through me, I could only shuffle slowly down each step until I reached the bottom. 

The cool, evening air was wonderful - refreshing and clear. I took a couple of deep lungfuls, feeling my head begin to clear and the tension in my body begin to ease.

Up ahead, I could just make out the faint outline of Kili's water-slide fountain in the moonlight. Balin may have urged me not to stay out too long, but I was in no rush for another earful. Especially if this earful was from Oakenshield. 

I also must have stunk to the high heavens, given the berth that some of the elves were giving to me.

The water was freezing - of course, this was no sun-warmed bath for me - but it was clear and clean. I grabbed a handful of it and drank the water greedily. Only on my third handful did I remember that the other dwarves had probably swam naked in it and this led to me retching the water (along with the mead and my dinner) back up into a nearby bush.

Feeling much more sober after that, I managed to fumble open the various laces of my tunic. I then pulled it off clumsily, and then each of my other garments in turn, until I stood (albeit still a little unsteadily) as naked as the day I was born in the moonlight. 

The shock of the icy water against my leg startled me as I swung it over the fountain edge and so I rolled rather than entered the water gracefully, landing with a loud crash and a splash. Under the surface, the force of the cold caught the air in my lungs and so I was gasping and shivering uncontrollably by the time I broke through. 

It took a little while to acclimatise to the low temperatures and not before I had swum a couple lengths of the fountain and dipped my head and hair beneath the fountain's running water. If the water had been clear before (naked dwarves aside), it certainly wasn't after I had washed all of the grime from my hair and body. 

For a while, as my body grew used to the water, I only lazily floated along on my back, staring up at the sky and all of the stars above. The evening air was by then too cool and the water rather comfortably warm and so I was in no mood to leave it. Rather I was enjoying my moment of blissful peace, bobbing along under the stars, in the elvish city of Rivendell of all places. It was the kind of night that I could willingly devote to thought - no matter how blurry these thoughts seemed to be as they sped across my mind.

Of course, just as I was really beginning to enjoy myself, I was interrupted.

I had expected interruption of sorts, most likely from an irate Balin or Oakenshield, but rather distraction came in the form of some nearby bushes rustling, a couple giggles and then the sudden appearance of the Durin brothers, shooting naked down the slide and sending out a huge wave of water to drench me in the section below.

"What the-?" I gasped, having coughed up a good lungful of water before the lads had reappeared, peering down at me from the fountain section above. "For the love of Mahal. Can't a dwarf get some peace around here?"

"Sorry," said Fili. Both he and his brother averted their gaze just when they realised that they weren't the only ones in the nude. "We didn't realise anyone would be here." 

"Well, I am," I grumbled. I turned my back to them and continued to float along still on my back, not giving a damn about impropriety. They had had their turn. 

"Did you break Nori's nose?" asked Kili.

"Maybe."

"An elf fixed it. Balin's looking for you though."

Damn it, I should have picked a better place than an elvish city to break it then. 

"How did you break his nose?" Kili continued. "I mean you're not exactly-"

"The best fighter," I said. "Well, you don't need a sword and a shield to break a nose." Sighing, I let my feet hit the fountain bottom. "I better see what Balin wants-"

"Why do it though?" The question surprised me, particularly as it was not from Kili. 

"He cheated," I answered, looking back over my shoulder at the fairer brother. For his own late-night swim, Fili had removed his various braids and with his hair darkened by the water, he did not look so very different from his younger brother. Although it was hard to read either brothers' face - both concealed in the dark and both staring fervently up at the heavens for modesty's sake. "He's cheated me before and he'll do it again."

"When did Nori cheat you before?" Kili asked, and I had to silence a groan. My peaceful swim was becoming a conversation and my tongue was still a little too loose for my own comfort.

"In Ered Luin," I said, swimming back over to the other edge. I could at least use question time to get a few more laps in. "We used to... work with each other."

"What did you do?"

"No!" I stopped mid-swim and turned to face both of the lads, folding my arms over my chest. My sudden, snappy reply had surprised the pair of them and so they both looked down and awkwardly met my gaze. "I'm not being inter-" I forgot the word. Damn mead. "Inter- interrogated. You want to ask a question? I get to ask one."

Neither lad seemed too bothered by that. 

"Go on then," said Fili. 

I thought for a moment. Damn, I hadn't expected to have to think up a question: "Why do you braid your hair so much and why do you not?" 

Fili answered. "I like how it looks." He shrugged. "Kili doesn't." That made sense.

"Your turn now," said Kili.

"Fine," I sighed. "We used to work together in... nursing."

"Nursing?" The lads were incredulous.

"Yes, this little, old dwarf we used to care for-" Let Tigs never know I called her old, I prayed inwardly. "He'd bring her goods and I'd live with her and keep her... alive, I guess." 

"How did he cheat you then?" asked Fili.

"It's your turn." I rolled my eyes. "What to ask... So, why did you two join your Uncle Thorin on his great trip east? I mean, only Ori's younger, but he joined because Nori did and- Wait, don't answer that one." I smacked myself in the face with my palm. "Yes, of course. It's so obvious. You'll both get the lions share as his heirs. Stupid question, my bad-"

The brothers exchanged a look.

"Are you alright, Nithi?" Fili asked, hesitantly.

"If you answered the question, does that mean we can ask you one now or-?" Kili asked.

"Never better," I said, floating along again on my back. "And to answer yours, Kili, Fili just asked me a question." I smiled upon hearing him groan. "Anyway, so what are you two doing back here? Didn't you both get a good go on the slide earlier?"

The lads grinned at that. 

"They changed the water earlier, after we had all been in it," Fili began.

Thank Mahal, I thought. So I hadn't drunk dwarvish bath water.

"So, we're going to mess it up again," finished Kili, and the pair chuckled.

"Enjoy that then." I too had to laugh at that, before kicking myself back over to the side.

"Wait, don't we get to ask you question?" Kili said. He seemed to be enjoying the game a little too much. "How did Nori cheat you?" 

"Sorry, but game's over. If it helps, you're welcome to say you won," I said, stumbling slightly as I clambored over the fountain side and back onto the damp grass beside it. "Remember those elves at dinner, Kili?"

"Yes," he said, apprehensively. 

Scooping up my pile of clothes and turning back to face them, I smiled sweetly at the lads. "Make sure you leave  _ plenty _ of mess."

In the bushes beside the fountain, I quickly pulled on my clothes, shivering fiercely as I did so. Through the bushes, I could hear both lads laughing and splashing about. They'd probably end up forgetting to make a mess in their amusement at the slide. 

At the edge of the bushes, my bare foot caught something in the dark and I stumbled over, cursing as I crashed painfully into the hard ground. Pulling my foot loose, I realised only then that I had tripped over Kili's tunic; the bushes having been where the lads had hastily stuffed their clothes. Rolling my eyes and cursing them, I managed to clear the bushes without any more accidents, only for something small and bright on the floor to catch my eye.

Having stumbled on their stuff, I had managed to dislodge the lads' clothes pile and so one of Fili's beard beads had rolled away from where he had concealed it and was laying on the ground, glinting up at me in the moonlight. I reached down to pick it up and to put it back with the others when a thought stopped me.

It was so beautiful this little piece of silver. Whoever had smithed it had done so lovingly, carving intricate patterns into the metal. My thumb traced these patterns as it brushed against it. It was well-polished, well-made and could possibly buy up Widow Tiggy's room at Ered Luin if it pleased me to buy it. 

Listening to the lads' whoops and cheers, a cold shiver ran down my back and not from my wet hair soaking into my tunic. I... I couldn't steal from them. I mean I could, but did I really want to? Hate though I did to admit it, the Durin brothers had both been alright with me since I joined the company. A bit persistent at times, and nosy, but otherwise, decent. They let me ride with them. They found my sword for me in the troll cave. I couldn't just pocket something of theirs. You don't steal from your own.

But they weren't my own. Fili was Oakenshield's heir. Beyond the Misty Mountains, a whole gigantic horde of treasure awaited for him. Quantities of gold and jewels beyond even my wildest dreams. What was one bead to a prince of Erebor? He'd have Erebor's wealth one day or he would die trying. It was as simple as that. I, on the other hand, would most likely receive a pittance for what was probably the first honest bit of work I had ever done.

Of course, I deserved a bonus. It was only fair. And an immediate one at that. 

Ignoring Fili's happy shouts, I slipped the bead into the pocket of my trousers and headed back towards the stairs and to face whatever was awaiting for me in the Company's rooms.


	7. The Misty Mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company soon outstay their welcome at Rivendell and head further east.

The following morning, I was shaken awake, not by Dwalin, but by an incessant Ori. To top it all off, I had a banging headache and a foul taste in my mouth.

"Too early for training," I grumbled, pulling the pillow over my face, but it Dwalin who snatched it away and threw it out of my reach.

"Aye, no training this morning," he said. "But get up. We're leaving."

"Leaving?" Groggily, I just about managed to sit up. This headache would be the death of me.

"Aye. Get your things and be quick about it," he said. "And don't moan about it either. It'll teach you to handle your drink better." 

I couldn't deny that my hangover was an effective lesson. No sooner had I managed to stumble out of bed and to gather up my things was I vowing never to touch wine or mead again. Ale, I vowed, from there on out. Ale I could manage. Elvish brews were apparently subject to debate. 

The other dwarves were all ready before me, standing around and, in some cases, watching me a little uneasily. Bofur, at least, gave me a hand, as did Kili, but the others kept their distance. Nori, in particular, looked a little sour this morning. The elves had healed his nose well, but they hadn't been able to sate his temper. Rather he just tended to his hair and glowered in my general direction. 

Ignoring my old acquaintance, I spotted instead, just through the doorway, a heated exchange passing between Oakenshield and his oldest nephew. I could not catch what was said but Oakenshield seemed particularly enraged, turning around and storming into our room as a chastened Fili could only look on.

"You," the Company's leader pointed at me. "What do I hear of you picking fights with your fellow dwarves?"

"But-"

"No buts," Oakenshield sneered. "You're lucky that Balin talked to me first, otherwise I'd be leaving you here with the elves to deal with. When Balin first suggested bringing you along, I thought we'd have trouble getting you to keep up with the rest of us. I didn't expect I'd have to hear of you being dragged off of another member of your own Company."

I kept my eyes cast sourly to my feet.

"I agreed for you to join us on the strict instruction you'd be helping Oin with his healing work, but I haven't seen you lift a finger to help him. Start livening up your attitude, otherwise we'll leave you behind." And with that, the mighty Oakenshield spun around and I was unceremoniously dismissed.

"Make sure you have all your things," he said to the rest of the Company. "We'll be heading off shortly." 

Kili had not stuck around for my scolding; he and his brother had dashed off somewhere else. The other dwarves went back to their own business; none, not even Bofur, willing to make eye contact with me. Crossly, I stuffed the rest of my things back into my bedroll, before throwing it over my shoulder and marching off to the outer courtyard.

It took another good half-hour for the Company (minus the wizard who seemed keen to stay) to assemble in the still dark courtyard. The Durin brothers were the last to arrive. Dawn was just beginning to break on the horizon, but already Oakenshield was barking at us to move ahead. He led us out, across bridges and passes, from the dwarvish city and up towards the mountains.

My head was still sore from the night before and my mood sour still, so I kept to the back of the Company. The hobbit, oblivious as ever, seemed keen to slow the rest of us down. He kept having to stop to gaze wistfully back at the elvish city, until Oakenshield rebuked him and we managed to continue our trek upwards.

After a while, the Durin brothers paused their frantic whispered conversation. Fili seemed somewhat downcast, but his brother proved to be his usual, chirpy self and slowed down to walk beside me.

"We should continue last night's game," he said.

"What game?" I said. Truthfully, I had forgotten most of the night before - other than giving Nori his just desserts - and I was worried what this game was. My pillow had been damp when I woke up, as had my clothes still been, so I presumed I must have gone for a drunken swim before bed. Yet I remembered no swim and I remembered no game. What did I end up playing with Kili?

"The questions game," Kili answered. "You ask us a question; we ask you a question."

I groaned.

"You know I had too much to drink," I said. "I could've said anything." That was a good point, I thought, with a sinking stomach. Just what had I said?

"You didn't say anything much," Fili assured me. 

"Just about how you and Nori used to look after an elderly dwarf in Ered Luin," Kili said. "I never took Nori for much of a nurse."

I sent up a silent thanks to my past drunken self. The nursing story was a cover I had relied upon a lot back in Ered Luin. It kept the officials off of my back and it gave a respectable reason to why I would live in Tiggy's shared room without a job in the mines. 

"Yes," I said. "Not that Nori did much. I looked after her most of the time."

"Is she alright?" Kili asked. "I mean, what with you being on the quest with us. Did she mind you leaving?"

This was getting a little too personal.

"Oh, look," I said. We had already reached quite a height on the mountain trail and already had a good view of the valley below. "Are those elves hunting down there?" I pointed at a vague spot below before walking on ahead and falling in beside Ori.

Mountain trail passed onto the grassy shrubland of before. That night, we set up camp on one of the grassy mounds.

Walking all day had exhausted us all and so conversation that night was stilted. Not that I was the most popular dwarf in the company after my behaviour at Rivendell and so it was a relief to set my dinner bowl aside and to walk away from the heavy silence. 

Fili and Kili had been given watch duty again and so sat together beside the fire. A day of walking had even subdued Kili's energy and the younger dwarf seemed happy just to stare into the flames idly. Fili did not seem any cheerier than he had been that morning.

I took a seat beside them, warming my hands beside the fire, when something caught my attention. Fili was missing a braid on his right side. It seemed strange for a dwarf who seemed so proud of his braids to have one missing and I would have said something had I not stopped myself.

Making some excuse or another, I got up and moved back across the camp, scooting around various sleeping dwarves, until I came upon some shrubs. It was there that instinct told me to check my pockets.

Low and behold, a rummage through my pockets brought out a silver bead - one that was just much too fine to have ever belonged to me in the first place. And one that was all too familiar.

But how had I acquired it? I couldn't see Fili having given it to me willingly no matter how many games were played. The dwarf had been het up enough about lending me one of his many weapons. Why would he give me anything as intimate as a bead, especially one as ornate as this one. 

Some pieces from the night before began to settle: the fountain; the boys appearing; stumbling over in the bushes beside the fountain. Of course.

He hadn't given it to me. I had taken it.

There is a simple creed among thieves: you don't steal from your own. Tiggy had taught me it; my... friends before her had mentioned it once or twice. If there has to be any honour among thieves, you respected a code like that. 

But Fili wasn't a crook. He was no thief. He was a well-to-do lad, a prince for Mahal's sake. He wasn't one of my own, I reassured myself, as I stuffed the bead back into my trouser pocket and returned to my bedroll. What harm could taking a little bead do? He would probably have hundreds more waiting for him in Erebor.

Days passed by in a similar fashion. We'd be woken at dawn, march on until sunset and then sleep wherever we could set up camp. Within a week, my back had forgotten the soft comforts of Rivendell. It was back to the old days: roughing it under a cloak. 

The Company gradually warmed to me again, even if Nori and Oakenshield remained frosty. Dwalin had started giving me fighting lessons again during our evenings at camp and, after a while, I found myself falling over a lot less. 

Ori too was growing on me and he proved to be a good companion. He was quiet, which I liked, but he was smart also and willing to point out things to me that he had learnt from books. Dori, however, did not seem so pleased to see us talking and did what he could to draw his brother away.

The Durin brothers still remained my go-to companions. Kili was his usual happy-go-lucky self, continuously trying to mess about and earning the odd scolding from his uncle. Fili slowly began to cheer up again; Dori lent him another bead and so his missing braid returned. His missing bead yet remained in my pocket and at the back of my mind.

The landscape changed the further we walked. Grassy shrubland rose into rocky terrain which then rose into snowy peaks. The paths became steeper, narrower, and more tiring to climb. The air grew thinner - so thin, that it began to hurt to breath. Training stopped. All we wanted to do in the evening was crash out in whatever cave we managed to come across. 

One night though we couldn't find a cave. And it proved to be the worst night of them all.

The pathway had been growing narrower throughout the day until we could only walk on, single file, clinging onto the mountain side to steady ourselves. Oakenshield was relentless, even as the dark clouds formed and thunder began to sound above us. He kept barking us onwards, even though we were struggling to see just where to place our feet.

It took a good deal normally to frighten me, but that night, I was terrified. All I could think about was the great drop below. A misstep was all it would have taken. A little too far to the right - so easy on such a dark night - and then... gone.

The thought sickened me and would have kept me clutching at the rock face had there not been a queue of dwarves behind me. The wind whipped our hair, the rain fell relentlessly and the thunder crashed on above us. 

"Come on," Oakenshield roared, his words almost lost to the wind. 

Up ahead, the rest of the company moved on, heads bowed, when a sudden shout rose up: it was the hobbit. He had taken a misstep with one of his large, hairy feet and would have slipped straight off of the edge had Dwalin and Bofur not caught him. 

I could only watch, horror struck, as they clung to the hobbit. Could I be so easily caught if I slipped?

The thoughts flew out of my head as Dwalin shouted out. Head snapping up, I watched, horrified, as a giant boulder soared through the air and crashed into the mountain side above us, showering us all in rock and debris. A hand slammed into my back, shoving me hard against the wall. It was only as I drew back did I realise who it belonged to: Fili. 

The dwarf had his hood up, but a clash of lightning illuminated his face. He opened his mouth to speak but the thunder stole his voice. 

"What?!" I shouted, but then my voice caught in my throat.

Behind Fili's shoulder, a stone giant was breaking away from the mountain across. The huge being rose up, towering hundreds of feet above us, and pulled yet another gigantic boulder out with his long, stone arms.

"Well, bless me," Bofur's loud voice rang out, even above all the din. "The legends are true. Giants! Stone giants!"

The giant seemed oblivious to us; he drew back his arm and threw the boulder past us and into the torso of another rising stone giant behind us. 

It was then that the ground beneath our feet began to shake. I clung to the rock face desperately as the rock beneath me shook and split. 

As the rock split further, Fili and Kili lost grip of each other, driven apart by the growing chasm between them. Fili may even have tried to jump the widening gap had Bofur not dragged him back; his brother's fearful face moving further and further away along with the rest of the company's. 

And we did have a lot to fear. Looking upwards, I spotted just what had split the mountain: another giant, rising up from the very rock face we stood against. We had made the mistake of standing on his very legs. 

As the mountain lurched forward, I felt my stomach drop further. As the rock limb swung forward, I held only tighter to the rock, my cheeks soaked with involuntary tears. Was this it? I thought, desperately pressing my body hard against the rock. Was this to be my death? Falling hundreds of feet? Being crushed by a gigantic fist? 

The limb swung around again; another giant loomed over us. Its fist collided with our giant, sending us all sprawling backwards as the stone giant fell against the mountain side. 

The force of the collision caused the rock at my feet to begin to break away. As it began to crumble, I drew backwards.  _ Damn you, Oakenshield _ , I thought, clenching my eyes and teeth as the bitter tears ran relentlessly down my face.  _ Damn you and your quest. Damn you too, Balin and Nori, and Greger, you loose-tongued bastard. And damn you most of all _ , I thought to myself.  _ You could have been at home, in the Gorge or at Tig's, but you had to overstep yourself, didn't you? You couldn't leave the burglary to the others. And now you would die here, or perhaps on the ground below, but it didn't matter which because you were going to die.  _

Just as my foot slipped and my grip on the rock loosened, a strong arm grabbed me around the waist and pulled me up. The limb continued to swing; the other dwarves continued to shout, but I was no longer staring death in the face. Instead my face was buried against a warm shoulder, my tears falling into hair and fur as the world continued to lurch about at a sickening pace.

A great crash rang out and then I was falling forward. But the ground was much closer than what I had thought, and soft and warm. From somewhere close, there were groans and then cheers and then more clashes of thunder and rock above. Only when the soft ground began to move again did I open my eyes to find Fili's own features, barely an inch from my own face.

"Err..." I said, untangling myself and my goods from him. "Thanks," I said, awkwardly standing up. I held out my hand and he took it, brushing the dirt from his own coat. 

He needn't have bothered as he was soon set up upon by an emotional Kili. He even earned himself a relieved clap on the shoulders from his uncle. The other dwarves moved forward, embracing various lost kinsmen until we were all again re-acquainted and still trapped on a warring mountain range.

Standing to the side, I hastily brushed away tears. Fear wasn't something I was used to. At least not this kind of fear. The fear that grabbed at your gut and squeezed your chest. The fear that seemed to rise up at the back of the throat. Even with the ground still and the group reunited, I could not seem to quell the fear: the raising heartbeat, the shaking, the breathlessness. I could only continue to cling to the rock and to not let the others see my face.

"You alright, Nithi?" I looked up to see Fili watching me with a concerned frown before I turned away. 

"Fine," I said. "Fine. Erm... thanks again for... giving me a hand back there." Even if it had been more than just a hand.

"Where's Bilbo?" Bofur cried out in a panicked voice. "Where's the hobbit?" 

It was then that I realised I had forgotten him. I looked up when I heard the group's horrified cries and saw the two small hands clinging to the mountain edge. Ori and Bofur, then the others, rushed forward, throwing themselves down to save the hobbit. I could only back away, eyes widening, as the hobbit began to slip.

Oakenshield however would not let this happen. Without any fear for his own neck, our leader swung himself down, hoisted the hobbit up, before he too almost fell to his death. Dwalin, at least, managed to catch him and haul him back up. 

"I thought we lost our burglar there," Dwalin said, breathlessly. 

"He's been lost ever since he left his home," Oakenshield spat out, pulling himself back to his feet. He turned away from the gasping hobbit. "He never should have come. He has no place amongst us." 

The company could only watch him incredulously as he moved away, barking at Dwalin to help him examine a possible cave. 

Fili turned from his uncle to me and his frown deepened. 

"Nithi?" he said. "What's wrong? Did you hit your head?"

"No," I said. "No. I don't... I don't like heights," I whispered, the words falling out involuntarily. 

"Heights?" he repeated.

"I don't like... I don't like falling from heights. I want- I want to get down now," I said. "I want to get off of the mountain now."

Another clash of thunder sounded overhead, and Kili appeared at his brother's shoulder.

"Dwalin says they've found somewhere to camp for the night," he said, the night having done little to damage his nerves. "Is everything alright?" He looked from me to his brother.

"Nithi's fine," Fili said. "She's just sc-" He caught my expression. "She's not feeling well. Help me get her into the cave." 

The lads each took an arm, having carefully unclenched my hands from the rocks first, and helped me into the shelter of the dark cave. This time however their help was appreciated and I found myself too tired to care about the opinions of the other dwarves. They too all seemed exhausted, removing their wet garments and curling up to sleep without barely another word.

Fili and Kili guided me to a corner. My hands were still shaking so they unclasped my cloak, took the shield and bedroll from my shoulders. As Fili rolled out his bedroll, Kili placed something warm into my hands.

"Pipeweed," he whispered. "I may have... borrowed some from Mister Baggins's. Don't tell him that." I brought the pipe to my lips and drew deeply; the familiar, comforting warmth spreading through my chest. 

"You alright, lass?" Balin was just about to settle down himself. 

I nodded distractedly. 

"How much further do we have to go?" I asked. "How much more mountain must we go?"

Balin frowned.

"A little further," he said, softly. "Just another couple of days." I could only close my eyes and draw deeper on the pipe.

"Come on," Fili said, in a gentle voice. He took the pipe from my hands. "We'll think about that tomorrow." He had spread my own bedroll out and as I slowly curled up onto it, he threw something soft over me.

It was his coat. Damp still on the outside; the inside part, at least, was dry, warm and fur-lined. I tried to push it back towards him, but he was insistent. 

"Thank you," I said, sleepily burrowing under his coat. "But why?"

Fili shrugged. 

"My ma used to do it to us when our nightmares were bad," he said, simply.

"Even the pipeweed?"

"Well, except that," he smiled, before rolling over and curling up beside his already-snoring brother.

Under the coat, I felt my shakiness ease as I inhaled the grassy scent. Curling up into a ball, I pressed my nose against the sheepskin and fell into a deep sleep, almost as easily as if I had been camping on grass.


	8. Down in Goblin Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company gets to meet the most handsome king to have ever lived in Middle Earth: the Goblin King.

Tucked up as I was under the thick material of Fili's coat, my mind slowly began to ease and to wander. One moment, I was curled in a ball against the hard stone ground of the cave. The next, I was back in a place that was surprisingly familiar: the cavern where it had rained gold.

It felt strange to be returning to an old dream. Unusual even. I rarely dreamt and never usually of the same thing over again, but there was something good in being back. Something peaceful in the familiarity of the rock and of what was going to happen. Sure enough, I lifted my head and a clap of thunder rang out and golden coins began to rain down again from the cavern's ceiling.

Closing my eyes to the downpour and raising my bare arms, I felt the gold coins trickle over my skin; their impact as light as if they had been feathers. Golden piles grew over my feet and then up my calves. Soon my knees were covered. Then my thighs. Then my private region and my stomach. Up and up, the gold crept; the clammer of fresh coins against the old ringing out across the cavern. It was then that the gold reached my chest. And then my shoulders. Slowly and slowly, it began to climb up my throat.

The falling gold may have been light and soft, but the fallen gold was uncomfortably heavy, pressing down on my hips and shoulders. Worse still, it did not seem to want to stop. I just about managed to struggle and pull my arms free from the gold, only for more to rain down and cover them again.

Throwing my head back, I screamed aloud. But no one heard my voice; it only faltered miserably against the loud clatter of falling metal.

The golden tide continued to grow until I was struggling to keep my head above it. Kicking my legs was futile. This was not the soft water of Rivendell. The gold mercilessly just fell into my open mouth and rolled down my throat and into my stomach below. The wave grew and I was dragged beneath its dark surface. 

Choking and spluttering, I sat up with a start, my hands uselessly clawing at my throat. I was no longer in the cavern, I began to realise, but rather just a cave and surrounded my sleeping dwarves. Next to me, Fili must have rolled over at some point when I was dreaming. He was snoring softly, pinned down by his brother's outstretched arm, his face turned towards me.

Gently, I untangled myself from his coat and then placed it over him, careful not to wake him. Whatever he was dreaming, it seemed peaceful enough.

Towards the mouth of the cave, Bofur and the hobbit were talking in low voices. I was surprised to see the hobbit up at such a time. He couldn't have been on guard duty. Perhaps his sleep had been as disturbed as mine. Ignoring him and his conversation, I pulled myself free from my bedroll and leant back against the cool cave wall, my hand slipping into my pocket.

The silver bead felt icy against my flushed skin. Slowly, I drew it out and rolled it between my fingers, brushing my fingertips against the bead's many engravings. The familiar pattern of it eased my nerves, calmed my breathing. Up and down, up and down, I traced the pattern. 

I would be sad to see such a fine thing go.

It was the dream's fault I decided and not my own. I had never returned a thing freely in my life and I was at odds to do so now, but the dream had startled something in me, as had the perilous climb earlier. 

This was not weakness, I swore to myself. This was not out of kindness or from any form of affection. This was merely a simple exchange. This was about balancing the books, making things equal again. Levelling the playing field. Fili had saved my life earlier on when he caught me; I was merely giving him back his beard ornament.

Carefully, I slipped my hand into Fili's coat pocket, wary of the sleeping figure beneath it. Just as I was about to safely deposit the bead, Oakenshield shouted out and the bead-owner's eyes flew open. They blinked once or twice in confusion before focusing hard on me, leaning over him, hand buried deep into his pocket.

Before I had chance to explain - before I even had chance to open my mouth - the ground fell out from between us and suddenly there was only air.

From one nightmare to another. Down the company fell, crashing against rock and down steep stone sides. The descent was endless - or, at least, it seemed to be so. I could only scream - my fear having come to life and unexpectedly so. But everything ends and ours proved to be painful enough: landing straight into hard ground.

We were however miraculously alive. I may have fallen what seemed to be half a mountain, but I was still breathing.

Dazed from the collision and from the sudden fall, I sat myself up only to find my hand still caught in Fili's coat pocket and Fili only just beneath me.

"Nithi?" he said, looking almost as dazed as I felt. "What- what are you doing?"

"Nothing," I said, quickly retrieving my hand, but apparently not quickly enough. Fili, even as dazed as he was, must have caught a flash of silver because his hand snatched out and grabbed mine.

"How?" was all he could say, incredulously staring at the bead in his hand. "How did you-? Did you-?"

"It's not what you think," I said, but of course he was thinking it. His blue eyes hardened; his fingers closed tightly around the bead.

"What's going on?" Kili shouted out from below, from where he was trapped underneath his brother. In fact, the entire pile of dwarves were moving, but I couldn't care for them at this moment. My eyes were only for Fili.

"It's not what you think," I repeated, but the dwarf turned his face coldly from mine. 

I may have just fallen half a mountain, but what mess had I fallen into this time?

"Listen to me. It's not what you think. I-" Someone grabbed my arm. "I didn't-" Whoever it was began to pull eagerly, hard enough to almost pull the thing from its socket. "I didn't- Get off me!" I snapped over my shoulder, expecting it to be Balin or perhaps Bofur. But it wasn't. Instead, I found myself face to face with the gnarled feautures of a goblin.

Crying out in shock, I only then saw the other dwarves, kicking and struggling as they too were pulled up to their feet by the sheer number of goblins that swarmed us. I managed to snatch my arm back and to almost clamber up over a struggling Fili, but then a clawed hand was on my foot and I was being dragged back.

As a hand yanked me up by the back of my tunic, I swung around and punched the goblin, but it was no use. Even as his grip dropped and he fell back clutching his face, another two were onto me, grabbing me by an arm each and dragging me painfully from the others.

"Get off!" I roared, but then they were pushing us on. "Fili!" I spotted a golden head, just ahead, past a couple goblin shoulders. "Fili!" I cried, but the dwarf must not have heard me or was probably just not listening.

Across bridges and narrow pathways the goblins marched us. I kept my eyes firmly ahead, only just aware of another and further drop beneath us. The entire mountain range must have been hollow as the goblin kingdom below it seemed to span as high as the eye could see and even down below us. As we passed through, more goblins appeared from their lit holdings against the side of the cavern walls, screeching and gloating as they did and gnashing their teeth.

On a platform, at the end of the pathway, sat one of the most grotesque creatures I had ever seen. If I hadn't felt nauseous before from the plummet, then I certainly did then. He was nothing more than a vastly over-sized goblin in a poorly-made crown, yet he made the wooden platform beneath our feet shake as he raised himself up.

At his feet, the smaller goblins threw our weapons down and backed away, bowing and scraping as they did. Stuck between Oin, the edge of the platform and yet more goblins at our back, I could only just make out my own sword and shield being tossed casually as an offering to the giant goblin king.

"Who would be so bold," he bellowed, "to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves? Assassins?" 

"Dwarves, Your Malevolence," piped up one of his followers, and by the expression on the goblin's face, assassins would have been preferred company.

"Dwarves?!" he exclaimed.

"We found them on the front porch!"

"Well, don't just stand there. Search them!" The goblins grabbed hold of us again. "Every crook! Every crevice!" A pair began to start a search on me; their clawed hands crawling down pockets and up my tunic. Struggling, I pushed one back, only for the other to grab my arms and hold me, while his friend finished the job.

"What are you doing in these parts?!" the goblin king continued to question us. "Speak!"

We remained silent.

"Very well," the goblin king said. "If they will not talk, then we will make them squawk!" The goblins all roared with pleasure at that; us dwarves however only exchanged nervous glances. To my left, nauseatingly close to the edge of the platform and to the drop below, the remains of another errant traveller had been hammered to a post. I wondered if he or she had talked or had been hammered there for insolence. 

"Bring up The Mangler!" the goblin king chanted. "Bring up The Bone Breaker! Start with the youngest," he added, poking one of his massive fingers in Ori's direction. The company started at this - no-one, goblin king or not, had the right to harm Ori.

"Wait!" Oakenshield roared. He stepped out from behind the other dwarves.

"Well, well, well! Look who it is." It seemed even the goblin king in his underground lair had heard of Thorin Oakenshield. "Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. King under the Mountain," he cried, flourishing a bow that would have been more graceful on a smaller goblin. "Oh, but I'm forgetting. You don't have a mountain! And you're not a king, which makes you... nobody really.

"I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just a head; nothing attached. Perhaps you know of who I speak. An old enemy of yours... The Pale Orc astride a white warg."

The Pale Orc? The orc of Azanulbizar? The goblin king had obviously not left his mountain in a good few centuries. The Pale Orc was long dead. All the stories of him were about his death at the hands of Oakenshield.

The other dwarves too seemed shocked by this. I looked for Balin but could not see the elderly dwarf in the crowd of others. His account of the battle had been the most recent I had heard and I had no reason to believe he would lie about such a thing.

Oakenshield too seemed sure on the matter.

"Azog the Defiler was destroyed," he growled. "He was slain in battle long ago!"

"So you think his fighting days are done, do you?" The goblin king was savouring this. He cackled happily to himself as he turned to another of his goblin lackeys. "Send word to the Pale Orc. Tell him I have found his prize."

How could he send message to the Pale Orc if the thing was dead? The rest of the company seemed just as baffled, looking and whispering amongst themselves. From where he stood on the other end of the platform, I caught Fili's eye momentarily. He too looked shocked by the news, his brow furrowed. For a moment, we only stared at each other, before his face hardened again and he turned away.

Of course. The bead. I had forgotten all about it within all the chaos with the goblins, revelations and threats of torture. He apparently hadn't.

One of the goblins was hovering over our weapons. I watched his gnarled back twitch excitedly as he poured over each weapon in turn. He picked up one blade and drew it - Oakenshield's - before diving back, spluttering.

The king too reacted in a similar way, jumping back and almost taking himself and his throne straight off of the platform.

"I know that sword! It is the Golbin-Cleaver!" he roared.

The goblin guards then turned on us; fists and feet driven into our sides from all directions. One caught me in the face off-guard and another in the gut. Clutching my stomach, I swung blindly out at them, but only for a goblin foot to catch me in the shin. 

"Slash them!" the king continued to shout. "Eat them! Kill them!"

One of the beasts grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. I just about managed to open my eyes fully only to see another one racing at me, fists raised. Even in pain, I swung my leg up and booted the goblin fiend, sending him reeling backwards, but only for another two to appear and pinion my arms. The goblin I had kicked stumbled back another step only to find that the platform had ended a little earlier. He plummeted off of the edge without a second glance. 

His apparent death seemed to rile up the others - at the very least, it gave them a good idea. The two on my arms began to pull me forwards, whilst I, terrified, kicked and dragged my feet in vain. 

At the very edge, they held me over it. The drop below was dizzyingly high. I could not even see the cavern bottom. Whatever remained of the previous goblin was too miniscule for myself to see, not that I particularly fancied seeing his broken remains. Or my own for that matter. I struggled against my captors; all but digging my feet into the old wood of the platform to prevent my fall.

Before they could toss me from the edge, a bright beam of light hit us and a wind strong enough to send us all flying back off of our feet - although mercifully not over the edge.

Blinking, I awoke dazedly to find myself, laid out on top of a pile of stunned goblins and the entire cavern dark but for a few stray torches. What had just happened?

As light slowly returned and we all - goblin and dwarf included - came around, a figure emerged from the shadows: it was the wizard, saving our dwarf-hide for a second time. Never, even with the trolls, had I been happier to see that aged face.

"Take up arms," he declared, loudly. "Fight. FIGHT!"

I did not need his second instruction. Already I was loose from my captors and running over stunned bodies to where my shield and sword sat amidst the other weapons. Grabbing it, I slid my arm into the shield strap and unsheathed my sword. On the subject of balancing the books, I had a few debts in mind that needed repaying. 

The wizard was already engrossed in battle, slaying goblin here and there with his own sword. Surging forwards, the dwarves all found their own weapons and then turned onto the goblins. 

Spinning around, I caught sight of one goblin that seemed familiar. He may have been one of the previous ones on my arms, although it was hard to tell - the goblins all looked too alike. This goblin however had spotted me and was running across the platform, sharpened stick raised.

It was not like fighting the trolls. The trolls had been slow and large and blundering. There had been three of them and fifteen of us and our small size and speed had been our advantage. Yet now there were fifteen of us against an immeasurable number of goblins that only seemed to grow as the fallen were replaced. They too were about our height and our speed, even if they seemed just as hungry as the trolls had been for our flesh.

This goblin ran at me and I prepared myself as Dwalin had taught me, throwing my shield up before me and raising my sword aloft. The fiend's stick hit hard against the shield, only further cracking the paintwork. Knocking his weapon aside with a heavy blow from the shield, I drew my blade back before thrusting it forward, deep into the goblin's abdomen.

The thing didn't seem to notice at first, still shrieking and shaking his hands uselessly as the sword sat motionless through his stomach. But then his eyes widened; they turned from me to the sword in his belly. I grabbed the sword hilt, twisted it with as much vicious might as I could muster, and booted the goblin back. My sword came loose, drenched though it was in goblin blood, and the goblin collapsed to the floor, twitching.

Before I had time to think or even to catch my breath, another goblin was running at me. And then another, and another after that. Each time I caught their blows on my shield, slashed my blade up and down. Their skin was hard, but not hard enough, I found, thrusting my sword forward time and time again.

"Follow me!" the wizard cried out. "Quick!"

Wrenching my blade out of another goblin, I turned and followed the wizard and the other dwarves, from the platform down yet further narrow pathways and bridges. This had not been the way we had entered the cavern, but the wizard seemed sure of himself. He had evaded capture during his own entrance. 

More goblins began to appear ahead. Some were thrown to their deaths by the dwarves at the front, led as they were by a charging Dwalin; some died on our blades at the back. The company ran on, stopping only to slay anything that came into our path.

And by Mahal, a lot of things came into our path.

From a low-hanging bridge overhead, more goblins dropped down, mouths twisted back into fierce grins. They surged at us, weapons raised.

Up ahead, Balin was taking on several at once, spinning around and cutting them down with his sword as easily as any young dwarf could. More clamboured up onto the pathway. A clawed hand reached out to grab my leg, but I kicked it away and stamped on its owner's other hand, sending it yowling back down, through the rope bridge below and into the dark. 

Even as we took them down, more seemed to appear. Oin seemed to be enjoying the challenge as much as Balin was, swinging around and clobbering any goblin foolish enough to cross his path.

From a platform above, goblins rained down, swinging across the cavern on long pieces of rope. I wasn't the only one to see them coming.

"Cut the ropes," Oakenshield roared, and I lunged forward, eager to follow orders for once. Swinging my sword back, I hit one of the rope's anchors, only to watch the goblins swing uselessly around a falling chunk of bridgeway.

But this left us with a problem and a huge gap to cross with an army of goblins at our back. But Kili for once was one step ahead. Grabbing a ladder, he drove forwards, Bifur and Bombur joining him. They threw the ladder over the goblins' heads, entrapping a good few of them, before racing over to the gap and pushing them all from it. We then had a ladder bridge to cross on and less goblins to worry about. 

Up ahead, there was another gap, larger this time, but Kili was prepared yet again. Before I could even catch my breath, he was cutting the rope and sending our part of the bridge swinging forwards over the gap.

"Jump!" Oakenshield yelled, but I wasn't quick enough to catch on, so shocked as I was by the sudden movement of the bridge. The swinging bridge drew back and hit the other side again, only for more goblins to join us.

This time however I made the jump, as did the remaining dwarves. Fili cut the rope and the goblins on the bridge fell to their deaths.

Onwards, we ran, around twisty corners and across yet more wooden bridges. The goblins we encountered fell onto our weapons, until I had lost count how many I had slain. My mind was racing; my face splattered in blood. I only wanted out, only wanted to leave. And if that meant killing every remaining goblin, then so be it.

Just as we were racing across another bridge, the entire thing cracked and the goblin king emerged, roaring and somehow unscathed. 

"You thought you could escape me?" he bellowed, before almost bludgeoning the wizard with his skull staff. "What are you going to do now, wizard?"

He should not have asked. The wizard only rushed forward and jabbed the ugly thing in the eye with his own staff. He then drew his blade and slashed the king's abdomen, bringing the giant thing to its knees. 

"That will do it," he said, dazed, before the wizard finished him off with a slice to the throat. 

The goblin king fell heavily forward, so heavily that the bridge shook violently beneath him and beneath our feet. As it began to creak, I turned, horrified, to look at the wizard, but only for the floor once again to fall out from beneath us.

Down the bridge fell, with us, dwarves and wizard, clinging to it desperately. We would almost certainly have died had luck not been on our side for once. The bridge fell against the cavern sides as the sides began to narrow and this at least slowed our descent, not that I was too aware of this, my face buried into the wood of the bridge. 

Our landing was uncomfortable enough. I found myself trapped, not between dwarves or under coins, but between beams of wood. Slowly, I pushed them off, shocked to still be in one piece with my sword and shield unbroken by my side. I rubbed the back of my head but yet there was no blood. I may just about have escaped this unscathed. 

Bofur summed this up.

"Well, that could have been worse," he said. And sure enough our luck fell out again as the gigantic corpse of the goblin king fell heavily onto us, crushing me painfully down further beneath the planks of wood. 

"Gandalf!" Kili screamed, silencing our muffled groans and curses. 

A strong hand grabbed my shoulder and pulled me from the rubble. Coughing, I climbed out and looked up, only to see hordes of goblin clambering down the cavern sides towards us. 

"There's too many!" Dwalin cried. "We can't fight them."

"Only one thing will save us," the wizard replied. "Daylight!"

Pulling the rubble away, I grabbed my sword and shield up and followed the fleeing dwarves and wizard down into narrow stoneways, ever conscious of the goblins at my back. 

Ahead however was a sight I never thought I'd see again: sunlight, streaming through a large crack in the rock. Rushing forward, I ran past the wizard and out into the glorious pink dawn. 

We emerged out onto one of the more gradual slopes on the mountain side. There were no drops here; only dense forest and soft earth. I could have happily sunk to my knees and kissed it, but then there was a hand on my back and I was being pushed along with the other dwarves. 

Over boulder and past tree, we ran, as if the dark-dwelling goblins were still hot on our back. But in time, their calls quietened to nothing and we slowed to a halt.

"Where's our hobbit?" the wizard cried. "Where's our hobbit?!" 

Ignoring him, I threw both myself and my shield heavily down. As I leant back against one of the many trees, a sudden thought came to me. My bedroll! It must have been left on the goblin's 'front porch' with pretty much all my wealth still tucked away inside it. I closed my eyes and cursed aloud. No, no, no. Cursed goblin scum and their trap floors. Curse me for leaving it behind.

The other dwarves however seemed more concerned with the missing hobbit rather than their missing possessions.

"Curse the halfling," Dwalin spat, venomously. He stalked past me. "Now he's lost!"

"I thought he was with Dori," Gloin piped up.

"Don't blame me," cried Dori.

"Well, where did you last see him?" Gandalf turned on Dori.

"I think I saw him slip away when they first collared us," said Nori. His usual well-kept bouffant had been damaged by the various falls and running. Even while distraught about my bedroll, I managed to find some small spark of glee from this. 

"What happened exactly? Tell me!" The wizard may have saved our necks, but I wished he would shut up about his damned hobbit. Oakenshield seemed to share my view. 

"I'll tell you what happened," he said. "Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it. He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door. We'll not be seeing our hobbit again." Was that a promise? "He is long gone," our leader added. 

But Oakenshield was mistaken. 

"No, he isn't," a voice piped up from behind us and I looked up to see the hobbit dishrevelled and standing before us. 

"Bilbo Baggins!" the wizard cried. "Never have I been so glad to see anyone in my life."

"Bilbo, we'd given you up," said Kili.

"How on earth did you get past the goblins?" said Fili.

"How indeed?" said Dwalin. 

The hobbit seemed to have an answer for him, chuckling nervously and sticking his hand into his pocket. How on earth had he managed to escape single-handedly? 

But the wizard proved to be a spoilsport. 

"Oh, what does it matter?" he said. "He's back."

"It matters," Oakenshield retorted. "I want to know." As did the rest of us. "Why did you come back?" Well, I wasn't quite so interested in that. 

"I know you doubt me." The hobbit was defensive. "I know you always have. And you're right. I often think of Bag End. I miss my books. And my armchair and my garden. See, that's where I belong. That's home. And that's why I came back. You don't have one. A home. It was taken from you." The halfling stared earnestly at our leader. "But I will help you take it back, if I can." His look must have been earnest enough as our leader seemed lost for words; his eyes dropping to the ground.

The rest of the company was unusually quiet. There was a sombre integrity to the hobbit's words that even I, perhaps now his least biggest fan, was not immune to. 

I turned away from the hobbit to where the Durin brothers stood together. Kili caught me looking and smiled, but Fili kept his eyes firmly on the hobbit. Somewhere in the goblin town, he had retrieved his coat and put it back on. He had yet however to rebraid his hair with his returned bead. 

He must have noticed my gaze, as he turned away. Kili, intuitive as ever to his brother's mood, no longer smiled. Hushed words were exchanged, their lips moved rapidly. Kili's eyes widened - his brother must have told him. The younger Durin turned to look at me, shocked, but I couldn't bear to watch them anymore. Pulling myself back to my feet, I swung my shield over my shoulder and -

A great chorus of howls rang out across the valley. Wargs. I almost dropped my shield in shock; the others too all started, even Fili and Kili. Suddenly a damned bead didn't seem all to important, nor did the brothers' opinion of me.

"Out of the frying pan," spat Oakenshield. 

"And into the fire," the wizard finished for him. "Run. RUN!" And with that, we were once more running for our very lives. 


	9. Fire and Eagles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go from bad to not so bad to a whole lot worse in a short span of time.

Heart hammering against my chest, I ran down the mountain side as if the wargs were already breathing down my neck. Not that they were too far off. Their howls only grew louder as we continued to flee. 

Past tree and boulder, we ran on, but the four-legged beasts were quicker at gaining ground than we were. One of them bounded up a boulder and leapt over our heads, spinning around in a mad fit of brown fur and fang, before pouncing straight at the hobbit. 

For once though, the hobbit held his ground and drew his blade, before even the other dwarves could react to save him. The beast ran straight into the sword, just as the goblin had died on my own. It just left the hobbit speechlessly staring at the warg's body and at his sword still protruding from its head.

But there was no time to be amazed by the little hobbit's first kill. Another warg came up behind the first, only to die then and there on Oakenshield's sword. With yet more of the beasts racing down at us, I turned and fled, running with the others until we reached the point where the mountain ended and the sky began. 

Another drop, I thought, queasily staring down into the vast abyss. If the drop had been bad in the goblin cavern, then this fall would have been half a dozen times as long and with a far smaller chance of survival at the bottom. But there was no going back for us. Our only choice, other than the drop, was against the hungry warg pack on our backs. 

"Up into the trees," the wizard cried. "All of you! Come on! Climb!"

Perhaps not our only choice then. Running to the nearest one, I grabbed a branch and hoisted myself up. I was not used to climbing trees, but this one was easy enough and the growls of the oncoming wargs only kept me scrambling up further. 

It wasn't long though before a terrifying sight - even more terrifying than the drop below - came into view: two dozen or so wargs gathering at the very foot of the trees we were clinging onto. 

The beasts were practically frothing at the mouth for us. They ran and they jumped, jaws snapping around branches and even at just the air in their haste to get at us. The trees shook violently under them; I all but had to wrap my arms and legs around the trunk to keep myself from falling off. 

And then one of the damned beasts managed to do it. It was probably just an old tree. Or one whose roots were not submerged deeply enough. I did not know a great deal about trees, but I suddenly knew a great deal about falling trees as, under the heavy assault of wargs below, our tree began to teeter and fall.

As it jolted, my grip around the trunk loosened and I fell backwards into the branches and foliage of the next tree, only managing to grab ahold of a branch in time. The other dwarves too jumped, landing roughly into the upper branches. But this tree too was not sturdy and it too began to fell. I swung from that branch to another and then to another, all the while as the line of trees faltered and toppled, until the only one remaining was the one on the very edge of the drop.

Clinging desperately to a branch, I made the mistake of looking down. If the view had been sickening from the cliff, it was much worse from high up the tree. I could only turn away and watch instead as the wargs advanced. 

But the wizard, up in the higher branches, had other ideas.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as a bright spark - a pine cone aflame - fell down from above me and landed by the wargs below. 

Other pine cones rained down; one even landing in my hands. The blasted thing was hot, but I threw it as well as I could, considering that I was still hanging onto the tree for dear life, straight at the head of one of the wargs. The beast must have felt it as he howled and scampered back. 

The flaming pine cones kept the beasts at bay, but it was also beginning to set the forest alight. Fierce flames grew at the base of the tree where the wargs had been. If we didn't fall to our deaths and if we weren't eaten alive, then we were bound to be cooked alive. 

But it kept the orcs off and their mangy wargs at bay. A cheer rose up from the tree and I looked up to see the other dwarves crying out as the enemy backed off. But then the cheers turned to terrified cries as the last tree groaned beneath us and shook. A loud crack sounded and then we were toppling back, us and the tree, over the edge. This was it.

The roots held out, but only just. Opening my eyes, having expected only a collision, I found myself clinging to the trunk of a tree that was dangling precariously. One slight move. Only a few inches more, I thought, staring down through the thin foliage at the vast abyss of air beneath me, and that would be it.

A cry sounded and I looked up only to see little Ori slip, his fingers clawing desperately at the air. A scream sounded out, but Ori was quick. Falling, he grabbed the first thing he could - his oldest brother's legs, and clung on.

It was only then did I realise who the scream belonged to - me. Clenching my teeth firmly shut, I clung desperately to the trunk, flattening my body against it and wrapping my arms around it. 

But then the tree lurched forward again and tears started to fill my eyes. No, I thought, the ground swimming before me. This wasn't how it was going to end. This couldn't be how it would end. No, no, no.

"Mister Gandalf!" Next to me, Dori clinging to his branch as desperately as his younger brother was clinging to his legs cried out. "Help-" His words only ended in a shriek as the branch slipped through his fingers and he and Ori both fell back -

But something stopped their fall. The tree lurched again, the branches shook, but Dori and Ori weren't falling thousands of feet to their deaths. 

Dori stared up at me, his eyes widening with- with what? Relief, surprise, fear? Ori, on his legs, did not look up, but merely held onto his brother's boots tightly. Dori's hand however was no longer clinging to the branch. Nor was he clinging to the wizard's staff.

He was clinging desperately to my hand.

With one arm wrapped tightly around the trunk and my body supported by the branches beneath it, supporting both Dori and Ori was uncomfortable, but it was manageable. I wasn't falling to my deaths with them. I wasn't watching them fall to their deaths. Without thinking, my hand had flown out for Dori to catch and somehow he had managed to do it. He had managed to catch onto it.

I had saved them. I had saved two lives. And not just any lives, but cursed Nori's brothers. But the feeling, the rush of it all, even along with the terror and the pain, was intoxicating.

"Hold on, Dori!" Balin cried out. Of course he was holding on! I wanted to shout. I had caught him after all, but then the tree lurched forward again and the dwarf's hand almost slipped from mine. I watched Dori's eyes close, my own fear reflected in his face, and only felt my grip on him tighten.

A groan rose up from the other dwarves on the tree, but I could not see what was happening. Clashes of metal and orcish roars came from a distance, but my eyes were only on those beneath me.

"Hang on," I whispered, probably more to myself than anyone else. "Hang on."

"Noooo!" Balin shouted, but I could not see what he cried for. From far off, a great orc cry rang out and then a faint shout - Oakenshield. But wait... Wasn't Oakenshield in the tree with us?

"Thorin! Nooo!" Dwalin too cried out. He wasn't then.

"Hang on," I whispered, this time to Dori. Not that I could tell if the dwarf was listening, his features scrunched up and frozen with fear. "Don't let go." Perhaps he needed as much reassurance as I did. 

The tree shifted again beneath me, but this time it was no lurch. Cries rang out - battle cries, dwarvish shouting - and more clashes of metal and then - and then a strange beating. A loud beating of wings.

Beneath me, Dori whimpered; his gloved fingers slipping through my own damp hands and then into nothing.

"Noooooo!" I screamed, my hand grabbing at the air, but it was too late. The two dwarves plummeted downwards, out of reach of any help. I could only watch, my scream catching in my throat and tears clouding my vision, as they fell and fell until they hit -

They hit a great blurred thing and flew out of view.

Blinking away the tears, I looked aghast again, only to watch the two dwarves - still screaming as if they were still falling - be carried off on the back of the largest bird I had ever seen. A great eagle, I thought, raising my head to watch the giant thing spread its wings and soar away. I had heard of them existing, but had never expected to see one in my life. 

We were saved.

Slowly, raising myself up, I watched as the dark sky above me become alive with wings and bird cry. The giant creatures flew over me and into the flaming forest behind, where I saw to my shock, dwarvish figures, illuminated by the flames, fighting off against orcs and wargs. 

The eagles however were pushing things into our favour. They flew fearlessly into the flames, talons snatching up orc and warg, flinging them casually over the edge. 

One of the eagles flew in closely to the tree, its talons raised. I watched, with barely concealed horror, as it snatched Balin and Gloin in one sweep and carried them off.

"No," I shouted. "No, no, no." Wrapping myself tighter around the tree, I buried my face into the wood of the trunk. "No, no, no."

But the eagles were not listening. A talon swung out and hit me in the side, sending me slipping around the trunk and over the edge. 

My fingers clawing at nothing, I too plummeted through the air. Ground. Sky. Ground. Sky. My vision spun along with my body, free-falling through nothing as the ground grew sickeningly closer. This was it.

Only, once again, it wasn't. My body collided heavily with another - a much larger body, covered in feathers - and, as my head slowly steadied, I sensed the eagle stir beneath me. 

Over the burning forest we flew, where scattered wargs and orcs could only snap as the eagle and me soared over it. A lone figure amongst the flames, with golden hair and beard, stood, watching, but his face vanished as the wings picked up and the eagle only drew me higher. 

Sitting up, I watched the mountain side grow smaller. The eagle did not seem to mind me gripping to the feathers of his neck, but only continued to fly off after the other eagles and towards the east and towards the rising sun. 

Over mountains tops and clouds we flew. My stomach may have still been churning from the fall, but there was something peaceful about the eagle's movement. Even at such a height, I struggled to feel any real fear. Rather, exhaustion overcame me, and I felt myself begin to nod off against the warm, soft feathers of the eagle's back. 

If only our journey could have ended that way, straight by eagle back to the Lonely Mountain and to the treasure beneath it. But the eagles had other ideas. I felt myself waken as the eagle began to quiver beneath me, and, looking up, I found it circling a mountain top where the other eagles were depositing the dwarves. 

One figure on that mountain top caught my eye however, even as the eagle circled - Oakenshield, seemingly dead with the wizard crouching above him. 

The eagle settled on the mountain and I took this as my cue to slip off, with just a quick, awkward pat for thanks. Then with a great beating of its wings, it took off again and flew off after the others.

Already the rest of the Company were crowding around Oakenshield and so I ran over to join them. Our leader wasn't dead after all, I was mildly pleased to realise, but he looked as if he had been through the wars again. Large bruises were already rising up on the skin of his face, at least on skin that wasn't cut or bleeding. 

"What happened-" I began to say, when I found myself silenced by a sudden hug. 

"Thank you," Ori said, smiling up at me. I only smiled awkwardly back.

Dori too came over and took my hand again, although this time only for a thorough handshake, 

"I thought you were a wrong-un," he said. "But you saved my life back there and I can't not thank you for it."

"My pleasure," I said, awkwardly pulling my hand away and catching Nori watching me from a distance. Our eyes met - possibly the longest contact we had made since I broke his nose - and slowly, the other dwarf bent his head. 

Perhaps this hero thing wasn't so bad after all, I thought, if not a little awkward, before a raised voice caught my attention. For once at least, I wasn't the target of Oakenshield's rebuking - the hobbit however was.

"You," he spat. "What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!" I looked around in confusion, unsure of just what the hobbit had done, but if the others knew, none were willing to look away and update me.

"Did I not say that you would be a burden," Oakenshield continued, advancing on the terrified hobbit. "That you would not survive in the wild. That you had no place amongst us." But then, to all of our surprise, his tone softened. "I have never been so wrong in all of my life." And then, our leader threw his arms around the hobbit and hugged him tightly to his chest.

I must have hit my head again, I thought, blearily, as the other dwarves cheered and roared. The last thing I could have ever expected to see was the likes of Oakenshield openly embracing the likes of the hobbit. Whatever... Bilbo had done, it must have been quite heroic enough to receive such attention. 

"I am sorry I doubted you," Oakenshield continued.

"No, no, I would have doubted me too," the hobbit said. "I'm not a hero or a warrior. Not even a burglar."

With one last sweep, the eagles circled us before heading back west into the pinkening skies. Turning away from the hobbit's emotional speech, I watched them leave, grateful at least for their help. 

But the cushy moment before me must have ended as Oakenshield was walking past the hobbit; something in the distance having caught his eye. 

"Is that what I think it is?" the hobbit piped up, and I too looked out, catching the faint outline of a distant, solitary peak against the lightening sky. 

Oakenshield walked to the furthest edge of the mountaintop; the rest of us following him. 

"Erebor," the wizard announced, and the breath caught in my chest as the peak only grew more visible in the early morning light. "The Lonely Mountain," the wizard added. "The last of the great dwarvish kingdoms of Middle Earth."

"Our home." I caught Oakenshield's longing whisper and felt some stirring for it, even if it was a home that I had never known. But with this stirring came dread. We could see the peak, but it was so far away. How much more danger did we face between here and there? 

"A raven!" Oin exclaimed; his brother's portents had come after all. "The birds are returning to the mountain!"

"That, my dear Oin, is a thrush," the wizard said, but we still watched it fly anyway, flapping its little wings.

"Oh, we'll take it as a sign," Oakenshield said. "A good omen." And once more he surprised me by turning and smiling at the hobbit. 

"You're right," the hobbit said. "I do believe the worst is behind us."

We watched the thrush fly on until it was nothing more than a distant spot against the sideline, before we turned our backs to it and to our destination in the distance. 

But as the sun rose and we began to climb down from the mountain top, I found myself thinking over the hobbit's words. The thrush may have been a good omen; a sign that life could return to the mountain.

But then again there were still leagues more of forest and high passes before we could reach Erebor. Still packs of orcs and wargs swarming around, thirsting for our blood. Whatever orc or warg had battered Oakenshield to within inches of his life, they would not think twice about doing it to any other one of us, 

Perhaps, I thought, a dark thought creeping to mind, as I took one final look at the lone mountain peak in the distance, perhaps the worst had yet to come.


	10. Milk and Spiders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company make more friends, just not of the eight-legged variety...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dumb fact: the name of this chapter comes from a song recommended to be by my housemate after finding out I have a phobia of both.
> 
> This was a hard section of Desolation of Smaug to watch...

It took us a good few hours to climb down from the mountain peak, struggling down steep slopes and neglected trail paths. The eagles may have saved our lives, but they had not thought to drop us off in a more reasonable place. Or even one much closer to our destination. By the time we climbed down enough to join the rest of the forest, I was aching for sleep, aching for some breakfast, and aching to burn down the rest of this damned forest. If it wasn't the steep paths that slowed us down, it was the constant need to untangle ourselves from various over-hanging branches.

But we were running out of time. The eagles may have flown us a good few leagues east, but the warg pack was still on foot, and, now and then, we could catch their howls in the distance. Growing in both number and volume.

Our situation may have been dire, but Oakenshield, at least, had the sense - and Balin's insistence - to give us the order eventually to rest up. Being half-chewed up by a warg had taken its toll, even with wizard healing, and so when the leader sat heavily down, so too did the rest of us. Without even bothering to unstrap my shield from my back, I fell backwards into a cosy enough pile of leaves, folding my arms across my chest and closing my eyes just briefly enough to catch a few winks of sleep...-

But then another sound came. Louder this time. My eyes flung open and the other dwarves too started.

It was not a warg that was for certain, and it was not an eagle. It sounded almost like a-

"Bear?" Ori, next to me, whispered. Somehow saving his and his brother's lives had raised me further in his expectations. He was sitting beside me, scratching absently into the ground when the sudden noise caught his attention.

I sat up just as the hobbit ran into view. While the rest of us had taken to sitting around, the Halfling had been sent off to scout the area. And whatever had made that noise he must have seen it as the colour had drained completely from his face.

"How far is the pack?" Oakenshield asked, already back on his feet.

"Too close!" The hobbit replied. "A couple of leagues, no more." My hand slipped back to my belt which mercifully my sword was still strapped to.

"But that's not the worst of it," the hobbit added, quickly.

"Have the wargs picked up our scent?" Dwalin asked.

"Not yet," the hobbit replied. "But they will do. We have another problem." The company drew closer to him, our breath baited - what could be an ever worse problem than a pack of wargs in close proximity to us? What of the noise?

"Did they see you?" the wizard asked. "They saw you!"

"No, that's not it..."

"What did I tell you?" the wizard said, pleased as punch. "Quiet as a mouse. Excellent burglar material."

Some of the dwarves murmured happily among themselves, seemingly oblivious to the hobbit's concern. While I did not care too much for the hobbit's nerves, I at least wanted to know what the other problem was. I loudly shushed them, but the hobbit was already calling for silence.

"Will you listen?" he cried. "Will you just listen? I'm trying to tell you that there is something else out there!"

"Like what?" I said, barely concealing my impatience.

"What form did it take?" the wizard asked. "Like a bear?"

"Ye- yes," the hobbit said, "but bigger. Much bigger."

So it was a bear after all. Little Ori was right. But bears weren't too dangerous, were they? Weren't they just great, lumbering beasts who kept themselves to themselves?

"You knew about this beast?" Bofur said, aghast. The wizard only turned away.

"I say we double back," Bofur suggested.

"And be run down by a pack of orcs," Oakenshield replied, coolly.

Several voices rose at once, including my own:

"Give me one bear to a whole warg pack any day."

"There is a house..." The wizard had finally decided to offer up a sensible solution. "It's not far from here, where we- uh- might take refuge."

"Whose house?" Oakenshield said, wearily. "Are they friend or foe?"

"Neither," the wizard sighed. "He will help us or... he will kill us."

The chances then did not look too good on this one, but, as Oakenshield said, what choice did we have?

I may have been grumbling as I took to my feet again, but a sudden roar from up above made my grumbling catch in my throat. With one last tug to ensure my shield was still on, I rushed after the others, ducking under low-hanging branches and jumping over fallen logs.

Whoever was this house-owner he certainly lived far away. Forest opened up into grassland; grassland closed back into forest. Through streams we ran; water soaking into our coarse boots and only slowing us down further.

Belly aching with hunger and a stitch starting up on my side, I was already beginning lag behind. The only thing that possibly drove me forward was that the beast itself was after us. Bears apparently were not as lumbering as I had once believed. This particular bear had caught our scent; I could hear clearly now his loud footsteps gaining ground. The thought of ending up as his breakfast kept me running.

I wasn't the only dwarf struggling. As another great roar sounded, Bombur froze up in panic. It was only when Oakenshield grabbed his beard and forcefully dragged him along did he manage to snap out of it.

Forest once more opened up into flat grassland and meadow, but this time with a far more welcoming sight up ahead.

"To the house!" the wizard cried, and thank Mahal, it was there: a small enough cottage, hidden behind yet more forest and hedgerows. "Run!"

Bombur certainly took the wizard's instruction to heart, sprinting past us all with the energy of a much younger dwarf. Even I was struggling to keep up, finding myself the furthest behind of all the company. Clutching my side, I just about made the garden gates, when the bear burst out from the forest, racing straight for the house.

Not that we could get inside. The home owner was out and had kindly locked up after themselves. Bombur threw all his weight at the door -nothing. The Durin brothers hammered on it - nothing. Oakenshield pushed them all aside and lifted the latch - that was the ticket.

With only seconds to spare, we all piled into the house, only just avoiding the bear's jaws. The damned beast was not finished with us yet. His snout caught between the two doors, he growled and snarled, his jaws only narrowly missing mine and Kili's heads.

"Come on, lads!" Dwalin roared, and together we forced the doors shut, drawing the latch down as the beast finally backed away.

Gasping for breath, I sunk down to the floor, leaning back against a stray bag of wheat.

"What is that?" Ori too was gasping. The thing may have been a bear, but would a normal bear have chased us so far and so quickly?

"That is our host," the wizard said.

My eyes widened as I stared aghast at the wizard; the others too were shocked.

"His name is Beorn," the wizard explained. "And he's a skin-changer."

A skin-changer? As in that thing that had chased us for a good two leagues was not an actual bear?

"Sometimes he's a huge black bear. Sometimes he's a great strong man. The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with."

Wearily, I held out my arm and Gloin at least took the hint, grabbing my hand and hauling me back up to my feet. The skin-changer's house was gigantic. Not in the sense of rooms as the entire thing was just one long hall and barn rolled into one. And it wasn't big just by how far the roof was from the floor. Rather it was big in that everything inside it dwarfed us.

The bag of grain I had rested against was about my height. My chest could only just about reach the bottom of his chairs. And the cows! Half a dozen of the massive horned things, chewing on their food and staring at us intruders suspiciously.

"However he's not over-fond of dwarves," the wizard continued. Was anybody this side of the Shire, I thought, poking about at the skin-changer's large chess pieces.

"He's leaving!" cried out Ori.

"Come away from there," Dori cried, grabbing his younger brother and pulling him away from the door. "It's not natural. None of it! It's obvious. He's under some dark spell!"

"Don't be a fool," the wizard retorted. "He's under no enchantment but his own." He sniffed and turned away from the dwarf, who continued to fuss over his younger brother. "All right, now, get some sleep. All of you. You'll be safe here tonight," the wizard added.

Not that I needed to be told twice, although first I had an empty belly to deal with. As the other dwarves began to bed down by the cows on the straw, I made my way to the skin-changer's pantry, although a certain dark-haired dwarf had beaten me to it.

"Alright, Kili?" I said, walking past him and eyeing the various jars about. It was the first time we had spoken since before the goblins; all those long hours back after the moving mountains.

"Yeah," he said, stiffly. "You alright?" he added, perhaps more out of routine than interest.

"Never better," I said, opening one of the jars only to find - to my disappointment - it full of a golden, sticky liquid. This wasn't food, I thought with disgust.

"It's honey." Kili, at least, noticed my confusion. "You can eat it. Look." He reached over, stuck his fingers into the strange liquid before sticking them into his mouth. "See."

Of course I knew what honey was. I had heard of it mentioned time and time before, but never had much of a chance to try it, at least never had much of a chance to try it without it being first slathered generously over a chunk of meat. Dwarves didn't tend to keep bees in the mountains, but the occasional man traveller might bring a few jars to sell among the dwarves. Of course the Durins would have gotten honey.

I stuck my own fingers in and then licked them hesitantly. It was sweet that was for certain, almost unbearably so. I flinched on my first lick, but, by my third, it didn't taste so bad. In fact, it tasted rather good.

"Kili." We both looked up to the pantry door where Fili stood, watching us. His expression darkened as I caught his eye, but he only held my gaze for a second before turning back to his brother. "Uncle wants you," he said, before turning and walking away.

Kili shrugged apologetically in my direction and, after another helping of honey, followed his brother out.

By the time I joined the rest of the company - having demolished a loaf of bread along with half the pot of honey - most of them were asleep amongst the hay. Fili and Kili too were among them, huddled up under their coats and snoring gently.

Fili's expression may have softened in his sleep, but I knew better than to settle down next to him on the straw. My days of being close, perhaps even being considered a friend, to the Durin brothers were over, and it was - for the most part admittedly - my own fault. At least neither of the boys had thought to tell any of the other dwarves. Fili may have been giving me the cold shoulder, but I hardly saw his uncle being so passive in his anger.

At least there was space still beside Ori. Drawing up my cloak to my chin, I settled down next to him on the soft straw and, within moments, I was sound asleep.

* * *

By the time I woke up, the skin-changer's hall was full of sunlight and the other dwarves were all stirring. The honey may have been delicious fresh, but it had left a sickly aftertaste in my mouth, and so, walking past the others, I made my way back again to the pantry. But I found my access blocked, blocked by the tallest man I had ever seen, taller even than the wizard.

The giant, his face covered in coarse brown hair, peered down at me from his great height.

"You," he growled. "You have crumbs on your clothes still. It was you who stole my bread." A large hand reached out and snatched the front of my tunic and, before I could even reply, I found myself lifted a good six feet off of the ground!

"You ate my honey too!" the giant continued to exclaim. "Dwarf thief!"

"Get off me," I cried, squirming and swinging my fists at his chest, but the giant would have none of it, shaking me furiously and bringing me close to his face.

"I do not like dwarves," he hissed. "I do not like thieves. I do not like dwarf thieves."

"Put her down, Beorn." Thank Mahal, the wizard at least had heard the commotion and was coming to investigate. "Whatever has been taken from you will be recompensed, I can assure you."

"Good," the skin-changer said, and mercifully I found myself back on solid ground.

"May I introduce you to Nithi," the wizard said, trying to make polite conversation with the giant. "She's the only female dwarf of the Company and-"

The skin-changer only spat something out about 'dwarf thieves' before moving away.

"Nice try," I said to the wizard, who only could sigh in reply.

Our host may have been tempted to rip me to shreds over the stolen bread and honey, but he, if not graciously, provided us with large tankards full of milk and a basket of bread rolls, cheeseboard and some fruit, even if we had the fun of climbing up to the table to reach them.

"So," the skin-changer said, eventually, "you are the one they call Oakenshield. Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler chasing you?"

"You know of Azog?" Oakenshield said, surprised. He turned from where he sat, with his usual sunny persona, arms folded against a wooden beam. "How?"

"My people were the first to live in the mountains," the skin-changer said, "before the Orcs came down from the north. The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved." I drew back on my milk as he spoke; it may not have been as good as last night's bread but it kept the honey aftertaste at bay.

"Not for work, you understand," the skin-changer continued with his story. "But for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him."

"There are others like you?" the hobbit piped up.

"Once there were many," the skin-changer said.

"And now?"

"Now there is only one."

Away from the dim pantry, I managed to catch a better look of the skin-changer. His brows and beard may have been grown out, but they only just about covered up some of the worst scars on the changer's face. The orcs really must have done a job on him, I thought, wondering if I would have felt more sorry for him if I hadn't been shaken about first.

"You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn."

"Before Durin's Day falls, yes," the wizard said.

"You are running out of time," the skin-changer said, stating the obvious.

"Which is why we must go through Mirkwood."

"A darkness lies upon that forest," the skin-changer's tone stopped me, my hand stretched out for a bread roll. "Foul things creep beneath those trees. There is an alliance between the Orcs of Moria and the Necromancer in Dol Guldur."

The Necromancer? What was the Necromancer? I looked over to one of the other dwarves for an answer, but they were all staring ahead at the skin-changer.

"I would not venture there except in great need," he continued.

"We will take the Elven Road," the wizard assured him. "That path is still safe."

"'Safe'?" the skin-changer was incredulous. "The Wood-Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They're less wise and more dangerous. But it matters not."

So we could not expect another Rivendell awaiting for us in the middle of the forest? That was hardly surprising, not that I expected much of a welcome at Rivendell again after what I vaguely remembered doing to their fountain. And to a vase on my way back to the guest room.

"What do you mean?" Oakenshield asked.

"These lands are crawling with Orcs," the skin-changer said. "Their numbers are growing and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive."

The bread roll in my mouth seemed to turn to dust at the skin-changer's words. It took all my strength to swallow it down, helped in part by the tankard of milk.

"I don't like dwarves," Beorn said. His eyes fell on me for the briefest of seconds, still glugging back milk and bread. "They're greedy and blind." His gaze moved to a little mouse crawling over Bofur's arm. "Blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own." A gigantic hand reached out and grabbed the mouse. "But orcs I hate more. What do you need?"

* * *

Breakfast finished soon after that, with the last remnants going either to Bombur or hastily stuffed into pockets. I went to retrieve my shield and sword belt from where I had slept, almost crashing straight into Fili in the process.

"What the-" It took me a moment to process who I had collided with. "Oh, right," I mumbled. He silently moved to his left, I moved to my right. He then moved to his right, me to my left. It took me having to physically grab him and move around him to end the torture.

"Alright, Nithi," Bofur was still packing up his things, but had watched the whole charade. A sly grin was spread over his face as Fili silently walked away and I silently walked over to my things. "Trouble in paradise, eh?"

"No!" I snapped, grabbing my belt and buckling it around my waist.

"Lovers' tiff?" The stupid dwarf would not stop.

"Shut up," I snapped again, throwing my shield over my shoulder and storming outside.

Beorn had, at least, set aside a few of his ponies to make the journey to Mirkwood quicker. They were pretty enough, but bigger than our last lot. And there were not so many of them.

"Where's my one?" I asked Balin, who was already atop his own pony.

"You'll have to share, lass," he said, with an apologetic smile. He looked about, but most of the other dwarves were either already sharing or already laden down with goods from Beorn. "Maybe Nori."

"No!" Both Nori, who had evidently been eavesdropping, and I exclaimed.

"Sorry, lass," was all Balin had to say on the matter.

"I saved your brothers' lives, remember that," I hissed, as I climbed up behind my old comrade.

"You broke my nose!"

"That was weeks ago," I said. "Get over it already!"

If the ride wasn't uncomfortable enough already, Nori had to drive the damned pony over every ditch or bit of rough terrain he could find. He had to have done it on purpose, but it left me shaken, queasy and forced to cling onto him for dear life.

We eventually reached the edge of the forest, alive still although at times it was fifty-fifty on whether or not I would push Nori into one of his bloody ditches.

The wizard dismounted first and went to look for an opening. He called out behind himself:

"Here lies our path through Mirkwood."

"No sign of the Orcs," Dwalin said. "We have luck on our side."

"Set the ponies loose," the wizard ordered. "Let them return to their master."

I dismounted- alright, fell off of the pony first, followed then by Nori, who sniggered at my queasy expression. He earned himself a shove in the ribs, before I turned back to the pony, untying the bags from its side and the bridle from its face.

"Be free," I said, not that the pony needed a second telling. There was something certainly off about the forest and the ponies seemed to sense it most of all.

And so did the wizard too apparently.

"Not my horse!" he cried, rushing out from the forest. "I need it!"

"What?!" Nori at least had made himself useful by dealing with Gandalf's horse, but apparently his help was not needed.

"You're not leaving us?" the hobbit exclaimed.

"I would not do this unless I had to," the wizard replied. He turned to the hobbit, ignoring the incredulous expressions from us dwarves. "You've changed, Bilbo Baggins. You're not the same hobbit as the one who left the Shire."

I turned away from them then and looked rather towards the forest and its dark depths. Something was really giving me a bad feeling about this. This would not be an easy journey then, I thought, gulping back hard. And it would not be made any easier without the wizard.

The wizard turned from the hobbit and made his way to his horse.

"I'll be waiting for you before the slopes of Erebor," he announced. "Keep the map and key safe. Do not enter that mountain without me."

Rain was beginning to fall, lightly at first but growing gradually heavier.

"This is not the Greenwood of old," the wizard said. "The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It'll seek to enter your mind and lead you astray."

"Lead us astray?" the hobbit said. "What does that mean?"

"You must stay on the path. Do not leave it," the wizard mounted his horse. "If you do, you'll never find it again." He wheeled his horse around and began to ride off, shouting out over his shoulder. "Stay on the path!"

"Come on," Oakenshield said, heading into the forest. "We must reach the mountain before the sun sets on Durin's Day. It is our one chance to find the door."

The other dwarves and the hobbit followed him. I however felt myself drawn away from the forest, even if it meant staying out in the downpour.

But I couldn't get away with it that easily. Oin took my arm and started walking me forward.

"Come on," he said, cheerily enough.

"Can't I stay outside?" I said. "This doesn't look right." But the healer only stared at me blankly, clutching his flattened earhorn to his ear.

I only sighed.

"Fine," I said, allowing him and the others to guide me along, deeper and deeper into the forest.

The forest itself was not too bad at first. The trees had grown a little too close together, making it almost like a maze with only a narrow pathway cutting between the trees. But then the path turned suddenly. And it turned suddenly again. This was no straight path through the forest. Rather it was winding, twisting nightmare.

Hours passed. At least, I thought hours had passed. There was no way of telling; only the faintest streams of sunlight could make it through the thick leaves up above. Oin's hand came off my arm, but there was no chance to turn back.

The further we climbed into the forest, the darker it became. The path became yet more twisted and less distinguishable against the forest floor, and the trees only became more crooked and difficult to move around.

The air too only grew thicker the further we went in; an oppressive layer hung over the forest and I could feel it drifting and settling into my lungs.

"Air," Bofur moaned, softly. "I need air."

"My head," Oin exclaimed. "It's swimming! What's happening?"

My head too felt as if it was drifting away. My eyes grew heavy; my step slackened. What a place, I thought, my hand reaching out to stroke the very trees themselves. What a place it is.

"Keep moving," Oakenshield barked, yet his voice seemed so far away and the trees themselves seemed so much more inviting. I pulled off my gloves and pressed my palm against the trunk of the closest, feeling a heartbeat beneath the wood.

"They're alive," I whispered. "They're alive." But then a sudden hand on my shoulder brought me out of my reverie.

"You alright, Nithi?" Through the thick haze, I thought I caught Kili's face staring at me.

"Yes," I said. "Look, listen."

Nori's voice, from somewhere far away, rose up.

"The path," he said. "It's disappeared."

"Is that bad?" I said, unable to remember if it was or not.

"Look for the path," Oakenshield roared. "All of you, look for it."

"But it's right here," I said, pointing at the ground beneath my feet.

"The path that leads on," he snapped. "Now, all of you!"

We moved on, but yet we might as well have been moving in circles as the trees did not change nor did the path reappear. All the while the air only grew thicker and the trees' heartbeats only grew louder.

"I think," I said, "I think I'm sinking."

"You're not," the hobbit's voice rose from somewhere.

"In gold," I whispered. "I'm sinking in gold." A harsh laugh left my throat and I sank forward, collapsing against Dori, who was peering at something interesting in Ori's hands.

"Look," Ori said.

"A tobacco patch," Dori said. "There's dwarves in these woods."

"Dwarves from the blue mountains, no less," Bofur said. "This is exactly the same as mine."

"Maybe they'll help us find the path," I said, nuzzling my head into Dori's shoulder.

"Because it is yours." I looked up to see the hobbit, all of the sudden so much larger in shape, berating Bofur. "Do you understand? We're going around in circles. We are lost."

"We are not lost," Oakenshield said. "We keep heading east."

"But which way is east? We've lost the sun," said Oin.

"I thought you were the expert," Dwalin snapped.

"The sun is golden," I whispered, sinking to my knees, grabbing handfuls of dead leaves and watching as they seemed to glimmer in my hands. "I'm drowning in gold."

"Is Nithi alright?" A voice said, but then many voices were beginning up at once and my mind could not keep up with it all. The ground was so pretty, but the forest was so loud. I just wanted the earth to draw me in deeper and for the air to quieten down.

"Enough! Quiet! All of you!" snapped Oakenshield. "We're being watched."

Whether we were being watched or not, I was beyond caring any more. The ground was so soft, so warm. I only had to close my eyes to feel it drawing me further in, away from the voices, away from the screams, away from the shrill shrieks.

Down on the ground, it was so soft, merely sinking back through the leaves and down into the dark depths beneath. Faces swam across my vision; voices rose and faded. One moment, I was standing on a mountain, staring at the lonely peak ahead. The next, I was back in the deepest and darkest depths of Ered Luin, running through the maze-like tunnels.

_ Quickly, quickly now _ , a voice chanted.  _ Follow me _ . A glimmer of blue shot around a corner and I raced after it; up and down, left and right.

_ Come on. You're so slow _ , the voice whispered.  _ You've got to catch me first. _

My hand shot out but the blue only slipped through it, turning once more and disappearing around yet another corner.

_ I don't want to play this game, _ I thought, staring around myself.  _ I want to go home. _

_ You are home, _ the voice said.  _ Don't you remember? Remember _ .

I looked about myself, but all I could make out was darkness, all for one solitary candle.

_ Step closer _ , the voice said.  _ Don't you know where you are? _

Squinting in the darkness, I could only just make out the faint outline of shapes. A bed, empty. Small with only the thinnest of blankets thrown over it. But there was something so very familiar to it; I could not stop myself but to pick it up and bring it to my face. A faint smell came from it, smoke mostly but then something fainter- flowers. And beneath the blanket, tucked up so very lovingly, was a lumpy old toy rabbit, half of its stuffing already spilling out.

No, the blanket slipped from my fingers. No, no, no.

_ But you're home now _ , the voice said.  _ Can't you see? _

No, I can't see. I can't see it again. My eyes shut, I could only ignore the warm trail of tears coursing down my cheeks. I won't look. You can't make me.

_ Yes, I can _ , the voice continued. And my eyes drew open.  _ You've seen it already. Why can't you see it again? _

I can't. I can't. I can't.

_ Don't you see? _ The voice whispered. I looked up only to see it. The figure hunched over in the corner. Darkening puddles spreading out across the floor.

_ You were too late. You lost the game. You lost the race. _

I began to scream.

_ Don't cry _ , the voice said.  _ It's only blood after all. _

* * *

  
  


Screaming, my eyes flew open, only to find myself trapped. Struggling, tears streaming down my face, I fought against my bonds.

"There now," a voice - a different voice - came from overhead. "Don't panic now."

"What happened?" My voice was hoarse; my throat on fire. Hands moved down and ripped the strange white bonds from me, before helping me to my feet. "Where am I?"

"Spiders," Balin said. "Giant spiders."

It was only then that I saw them. The remains. Numerous, great lumps of brown with spindly legs jutting out at odd angles from their still bodies.

"Did I sleep through this?" I said, shocked, pulling the remnants of what must have been their web from my tunic.

"Aye," Bofur said. "And not quietly either."

It was only then that I realised we, the company, were not alone amongst the spider corpses. We were surrounded and not by eight-legged monsters. Something far more unsettling.

"The Mirkwood elves," Ori whispered aloud. Dozens and dozens of steely, unbearded faces watched us, bows raised, arrows nocked.

"Less wise, more dangerous," Balin sighed.


	11. Guests of Mirkwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves again prove to be terrible company for elves.

"Search them," a voice rang out through the clearing in the Common Tongue. Its owner, a pale-haired elf with a clear authoritative air about him, cut through the line of elves. He snapped his fingers and a few of his kin lowered their bows; they crossed the clearing and began to search us.

Shaky still, I could not accept that my hallucination was over and that I was fully conscious again. As a pair of hands grabbed my shoulders and spun me roughly around, I swung out, only for my fist to be caught by a red-headed elf. He smirked at my feeble attempt and said something in Elvish to the amusement of the other elves.

"You can't have that," I spat, my throat still hoarse from screaming, as he grabbed the hilt of my blade and unsheathed the sword. Another hand grabbed the shield at my back. "Get off of me!" I jumped back, but another elf appeared and pulled the shield up over my head.

"Give that back," I exclaimed. "They're mine!" But the elf didn't seem to care or to understand. He merely looked both things over, shrugged, and threw them onto the growing pile of weapons.

Not too far away, Fili was being cleared of his own weapons. As if the twin swords and axes hadn't been enough, the elf guard was frisking him further for various little daggers. He caught my eye and something crossed his face- concern perhaps? It made a nice change from his hostility of the last few days, but still something about it unsettled me.

How bad had I been then when I was dreaming? Bad enough to sleep through a large colony of giant spiders apparently and then through the arrival of a small army of elves. And yet still I couldn't shake off the after-effects. The shaking hands. The clammy palms. The queasy stomach. The sense that I was still very much in the dream and-

"You alright, lass?" Balin whispered. The elves had finished searching us and were beginning to herd us to the edge of the clearing.

"Fine," I whispered back, not that I felt it. The forest seemed to be swimming and shadowy figures seemed to clamber at the edge of my vision.

Close to me, the pale-haired elf was looking through Gloin's possessions.

"Give it back! That's private!" Gloin exclaimed.

"Who is this?" The elf said, staring at some picture or another with disdain. "Your brother?"

"That is my wife!"

"And what is this horrid creature? A goblin-mutant?"

"That's my wee lad, Gimli!"

To my left I spotted the elf who had searched me before. He came over, took my wrists and looped a length of rope around them.

"What's the point in all of this?" I said. "The weapons- yes. But restraints? Where the hell are we even going to go? You can at least give me back my shield." He only smirked, tightened the rope and walked away, leaving me tied up to all the others.

The pale-haired elf then decided to examine Oakenshield's blade.

"Where did you get this?" he said, angrily.

"It was given to me," Oakenshield replied, only for the blade to be held to his throat.

"Not just a thief, but a liar as well," the elf sneered. He shouted something out in Elvish and then hands were at our backs and we were being forced from the clearing, once more under the control of an armed and hostile guard.

"Stop shoving," I growled to the elf at my back, who only smirked and muttered something that in the Common Tongue would have sounded all too much like 'screamer'. That quickly shut me up. I just about managed to duck out of his grip and hurry forward all the while dragging the dwarves behind along with me.

The elves led us through more forest; they at least seemed to know the path. We may have seen no more spiders, but the blasted things had covered us in web, and I was still pulling out handfuls of the stuff even as we reached the entrance to the elvish kingdom.

Unlike Rivendell, Mirkwood was not much to look at from the outside, although its carved gates may have seemed pretty enough to any voluntary guest. Entry to it (and also most likely exit) however was limited to a narrow bridge across a fierce river below.

The kingdom beyond the gates was more impressive to look at; that is if giant underground forests were your thing. We were pushed and shoved across yet more narrow bridges and up winding staircases until we reached some sort of central platform.

A throne was set above this platform, up yet more stairs and occupied by an elf with long pale hair. He may have been tall- it was hard to tell, draped out as he was across his throne and bedecked in long, rich robes and a crown made of forest twigs. This elf barely gave us more than a cursory glance as we were led out before him; that was before his eyes however settled on Oakenshield.

He called out something in Elvish, waved his hand, and we were all being dragged off again- this time without Oakenshield. Dwalin bellowed and tried to fight his guards off. The others struggled, but Balin ordered us to quieten down.

"That," he said, as the elves led us down set after set of staircases, "is Thranduil, Elven-king of Mirkwood. He and Thorin will come to some sort of arrangement." But he didn't look so certain about it.

The elf guards led us down to a set of cells, where, one-by-one, we were all shoved into.

"This is not the end of it!" Dwalin roared.

I turned to the elf who had spoken to me before. If he knew enough Common Tongue to call me names, then he probably had enough Common Tongue to answer me.

"Is this how you treat guests?" I spat.

"You're not guests," he retorted, untying my bonds.

"Thank Mahal then," I said. "I was getting worried about how you might treat your prisoners." That remark earned me a hard shove in the back as I was thrown into my cell.

But I was not alone in it.

"There has to be a mistake." I turned back to the elf, who was currently locking the door. "Can't I at least have my own cell?"

"No," the elf said. "We do not have enough guest rooms."

I swore at him then, aloud, and turned to my cell-mate.

"Your uncle had better come to an arrangement soon," I said to Fili, who only watched me coolly from the other end of the cell. He didn't bother to reply and so I didn't bother to say anything more, merely walking to the back of the cell and leaving the door free for him to shake and shout at.

Slowly, I slumped down against the back wall, watching the golden-haired dwarf grow angrier and angrier with the door, with only the slightest bit of annoyance at the pointless din he was making. In some ways the noise was reassuring. Without much lighting, the cell didn't look too different from the room from my hallucination and I half-expected the voice to start up in my head again. If it did, Fili's booting of the door at least drowned it out.

The noise however was not reassuring for some.

"Leave it!" Balin cried out after a while, from whichever cell he had been shoved in. "There's no way out. This is no Orc dungeon. These are the halls of the Woodland Realm. No one leaves here, but by the king's consent."

Fili stopped then; he turned around only to find me rubbing my temples furiously.

"Hit your head again?" he said, impassively.

"No," I snapped, "but please, carry on kicking. We might be out of here by Durin's Day. Durin's Day 3041 that is."

He didn't bother to respond, merely sitting at the opposite corner of the cell and resting his head against the wall. A heavy silence hung over us, interspersed with awkward moments of eye contact, and after a good while, I just couldn't take it anymore and-

"If you've got something to say, say it," I hissed, careful to keep my voice low enough for the others not to overhear. "If we're going to be stuck here for Mahal knows how long, I'd rather not spend it with you looking at me like I've just kicked dirt in your face-"

"There's nothing to talk about," he replied, his arms folded across his chest.

"We haven't spoken since the goblins!" He turned his face away. "You never gave me a chance to explain..."

"What is there to explain?" he said, in a low voice. "You stole from me."

"I was giving it back," I hissed.

"You still took it."

"I was giving it back!"

"And?"

"I never give things back," I said, through gritted teeth. "At least not voluntarily."

The rage in my tone at least caught his attention: he turned back to face me, but his expression was as dispassionate as his tone.

"Friends don't steal from each other."

I could have started screaming again.

"We weren't friends at Rivendell," I said. "Maybe we were by the mountains. Maybe that's why I was putting it back, but we weren't friends before." With a disgusted noise, I turned my face towards the cell wall. "And if we're not now, then what does it matter."

"Why did you take it?"

I continued to glare at the wall.

"Why?"

"Because that bead would have fed a family of five in the Blue Mountains for a year and you- you let it roll away from your clothes as if it was nothing."

My answer seemed to surprise him. A long minute passed before he could reply.

"And would you?"

"What?"

"Would you have fed a family of five for a year with it?"

"No," I said, simply, hearing the distant clamour of footsteps and finally turning to face his earnest gaze again. "No," I said, simply. "I would have fed myself for two."

A set of keys rattled from outside - freedom! Ignoring my sullen cell-mate, I crawled across the floor to the door, desperately trying to peer out, but only catching the sight of some elves milling about a cell down the pathway.

But we were not free. A cell door opened, Oakenshield was thrown in, and the door was slammed and locked behind him.

"Did he offer you a deal?" Balin asked.

"He did," Oakenshield said. "I told him he could go  _ ish khakfe andu null _ . Him and all his kin!"

Even my mouth fell open at the use of such language. This was not just any curse word, thrown around in some tavern frequently. This was the kind of language you saved for only your very worst enemy (and their kin, apparently).

We were never going to leave, I realised, with a sinking feeling to my gut. We were doomed to spend the rest of our days rotting away in these cramped cells- mine more cramped than the others. Leaning against the cell bars, I managed to wave over one of the elves.

"Look," I said, "if I'm going to spend the rest of my life in here- all potential one hundred and fifty years more of it- at least can I have another cell? Preferably one on my own."

The elf guard shook his head and went to turn away-

"No, wait!" I cried. "Look, put me in with anyone else. I promise I won't try anything. Even- even... even put me in a cell with the red-headed one. You know, with the three spikes." I grabbed a handful of my hair to make my point. "Throw me in with him if you have to. Anywhere but here."

The elf only looked confused and backed away.

"Get back here!" I shook the bars. "Get back here now!"

He fled. Sighing, I turned my back to the door, leant my head against the bars and closed my eyes.  _ Stupid elves _ , I thought.  _ Stupid Oakenshield and his big, stupid mouth. Stupid Fili. Stupid bead. Stupid quest. Stupid Nori. Stupid Greger. Stupid... _

"Were you even a nurse?"

Wearily, I opened my eyes.

"Ever seen me nurse anyone?"

"No."

"There's your answer." I closed my eyes again and rested back, but he would not just leave it there.

"You said at Rivendell you and Nori worked together."

Of course, I had said that. I had also drank half my weight in mead and wine. I could have said anything.

"Nori's a-" He continued. "He was a thief. He got himself into trouble in the Blue Mountains and that's why he had to leave. So, were you a thief too?"

I didn't reply.

"Is that the reason you joined? You were in trouble?"

"I chose to head east to reclaim a homeland from a dragon," I said, coolly. "And maybe to avoid being stuck in the same situation I'm in now." I smacked my hand against one of the bars.

I could not read Fili's expression, keeping my eyes closed and all, but his response was disappointing in its lack of surprise, anger or any real emotion. I seemed only to be affirming whatever suspicions he had about me.

"Why were you in trouble? Who did you steal from?" he said.

"You probably wouldn't know him." I thought back to the big cheese at Ered Luin and to his jewels. His beautiful, costly jewels. "Or maybe you did. Not that it matters now."

"Was that what you and Nori were talking about in the hobbit's home?"

And I had just managed to forget that particular episode between Nori and me.

"Can't you just leave it with the questions?" I snapped. "If I'm going to spend the rest of my days in some elvish prison, can I not do it in peace."

That at least shut him up... for a little while.

"In the forest, before the spiders, you started screaming..." And just as I was on the point of dozing off again. "You kept screaming about-"

My eyes flung open.

"Why are you so interested?" I spat. "Why with all the questions? I stole a stupid bead from you, I felt... bad, I guess, when you saved my life, so I gave the bead back only for you to catch me doing it. There, that's it. Hate me all you want, but leave off with all of the bloody questions!"

My sudden outburst startled him, catching him open-mouthed in mid-sentence.

"I don't hate you," he said, eventually.

"Then you're an idiot," I said, crawling away from the door and back to my previous corner.

"I just want to know why you did it."

"It's what I do," I said, curling up against the hard floor. "It's what I've always done."

"You kept screaming in the forest. About gold. And then about your-"

"Leave it. Please just leave it." I looked up to find him watching me. "I stole from you and I regret that now. You have your bead back. Just... no more questions."

Time passed again in silence. It was hard really to keep track of it with no windows or sunlight. The elf guards seemed to change hourly, but I soon lost count of their changes. Fili moved over to sit by the door. I tried my best to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes all I could see was the room again and the figure within. Instead, I kept my eyes to the ceiling, staring at the moss and grime on it until they blurred into a vast pattern before my eyes.

"You were upset after Rivendell," I said, quietly, turning my head to face the other dwarf, his figure silhouetted against the door. "The first day at least."

"I thought you said no more questions," he said, picking at something or another on his tunic.

"Oak- Your uncle berated you about something that morning. At least he did before he told me off. It was the bead, wasn't it?"

He didn't reply, didn't even bother to look up.

"The bead was important, but why? You must own hundreds of them. Your uncle's a king."

"Of nothing... yet," he replied, with a dark chuckle. "The bead was- The beads were- They were my father's before they were mine."

I instantly regretted asking.

"He died when I was little, before Kili was even born, and he didn't have much to leave behind. He left them to me," he continued.

"Right," I said, turning my gaze back to the cell's ceiling.  _ Why had I asked? What had even possessed me to ask? _

"Thorin was angry because he thought I had been careless with them. He told me off for disappointing my father's memory..."

"You're heading east to get Erebor back. How are you disappointing his memory?"

"Because wearing them would be like carrying something of his on the quest. If he was still alive, he would be coming with us," he said, before adding quickly. "It's stupid. A stupid idea."

"No," I said. "It's not. It makes sense." And it did in some ways. "I'm- I'm... I'm..." Why was this always such a difficult word to say? "I'm  _ sorry _ I nearly ruined that for you," I added quickly. "Thanks for not saying anything to the others."

"I told Kili..."

"You two are joined at the hips," I scoffed. "I expected as much. I meant, Oak- Your uncle, and Balin, and that. I'm kind of treading a thin line with your uncle after Rivendell."

"After you broke Nori's nose?"

"After that."

"Do you even remember doing it?"

"Not exactly unfortunately," I said. "But your uncle said he'd leave me behind if I stepped out of line again. Not that it matters too much now," I added, darkly.

"A hundred and fifty years," Fili sighed.

"How's your brother holding up?"

"I can't tell," he said, peering out between the bars. "I think he's talking to one of the elves."

Of course he was. I sat up and crawled over to the door and under Fili's out-stretched arm. It was difficult to see to the left, but not entirely impossible, and I could just make out the red-haired she-elf from the forest talking to Kili through his cell door.

"You know, they'll probably let you arrange a swap," I said, looking up at Fili from under his arm. "Between cells. It looks like Kili's already working on chatting up the guard. Although give it a few years maybe. He might need to fashion up a step-ladder first."

His moustache braids twitched at that; did I catch a smile?

"Maybe," he said. I slipped out under his arm and crawled further back into the cell, but not back to my corner. Rather I just leant up against a side wall.

"So," Fili said, after a more comfortable period of silence had passed, "if you were a thief, then you must have some decent stories to tell."

I raised my eyebrow at that.

"I thought you were opposed to me stealing? Or is it just your belongings you're opposed to being nicked?" He seemed to bristle at that, turning back towards the door, so I added quickly: "Fine! But if any of these stories so much as pass those cell doors, I'll know who to chase down."

"... And then Johan-"

"Your boss?" Fili interrupted.

"... Gang leader," I corrected him. "Well, then he appears out of the blue with about three cartloads of contraband bread and the authorities close on his tail. We had about not even twenty minutes to dispose of it all among ten of us." I couldn't help but grin at my cell-mate's eager expression. He seemed to be hanging onto every word that came from my mouth. "We managed to do it, managed to eat it all before the guards showed up, but I couldn't eat bread for another ten years after that."

"Did he get caught out in the end? Johan?"

"Eventually," I said, my smile faltering. "One heist too many, although he brought the rest of the gang down with him."  _ Damn Johan _ .

"Even you?"

"Even me, but I was barely thirty at the time and they just thought I was just a misfit, messing around with the wrong sort. Which I guess I was. So they told me off and packed me off to stay and look after some little old dwarf lady."

"That worked?"

"For a time," I said. "But the rent was always so high and I can't help but be good at card tricks so..."

"But no more gangs of thieves?"

"No more," I said. "I pulled off some more... jobs with others, but, as you can see, they were the ones that tended to get me into trouble more."

"The one with Nori?"

"That was my most recent one and it proved to be a bit of a failure. I signed up to this quest on the off-chance that I wouldn't end up in a tiny cell for the remainder of my days and, well, here I am!"

"Here we are."

"Is your brother still talking to the elf?"

"I don't think so."

"Reckon it's morning yet?"

Just at that moment, Bofur was voicing something similar:

"I'll wager the sun is on the rise. It must be nearly dawn," he announced, dourly and loudly.

"We're never going to reach the mountain, are we?" came Ori's sad response.

Fili sighed, his shoulders slumping.

"Not stuck in here, you're not!" came a familiar voice.

_ The hobbit?  _ Pushing past Fili, I launched myself into the door, trying my hardest to find where the voice had come from. Fili too was eagerly looking out over my shoulder.  _ But how had the hobbit escaped? Wasn't he with us when we were captured? _ I racked my brains back, but could not recall seeing him at all after I had woken up.

Sure enough, the little fellow appeared only moments later, a set of keys in his tiny hands.

The door open, I rushed outside, almost barging the hobbit aside in my haste to get some fresh air and away from the stuffy cell. Fili too was excited to leave, but for another reason entirely.

"Kili," he cried, throwing his arms around his brother.

"Come on!" the hobbit said, as the other dwarves all milled about. "We won't have long until the guards come back."

Kili happily clapped his brother on the back.

"You two friends again?" he said, looking over his brother's shoulder to where I stood.

Fili and I exchanged a look.

"I... guess," I said. Fili was hardly disagreeing.

"You managed to spend a night in an enclosed space together. That's a start," Kili continued.

"Yeah," I said, holding Fili's gaze. "Yeah, it was."

"Come on!" Dwalin said. "We haven't got all day now."

"Up the stairs," Oakenshield said.

"No, Ori, not that way!" the hobbit cried. "This way. Down here. Follow me."

We followed the hobbit down winding staircases and across narrow bridges.

"You sure he's going the right way," I whispered to Fili. Having spent the last Mahal knew how many hours together, I felt some sort of camaraderie had formed with the other dwarf. I didn't necessarily believe I was truly forgiven, but he seemed willing enough to talk to me again.

"He seems to know what he's doing," he said.

"But we're going down," I said, hurrying down yet more stairs. "Shouldn't we be going up?"

"He must have found an escape route when he found the keys," Kili said, brightly.

"Like your escape route?" I said, looking over my shoulder at the younger dwarf. "What was that she-elf's name again?"

Kili blustered at that; his cheeks reddening.

"Don't worry," I whispered. "We won't say anything to your uncle."

The hobbit brought us deeper and deeper into Mirkwood until, after yet another set of stairs, we found ourselves in what had to be the wine cellar.

"This way," he whispered, waving us over to follow him past all of the kitchen occupants, who were all asleep and surrounded by empty wine bottles. I grabbed one to be sure, but felt a sharp tap on my shoulder. Balin most likely.

"I don't believe it," Kili exclaimed. "We're in the cellars." Sullenly, I placed the empty wine bottle back on the table.

"You were supposed to be leading us out," Bofur hissed, "not further in!"

"I know what I'm doing!" the hobbit retorted. "This way!"

The bossy little thing led us down a small pass to where a stack of empty barrels had been piled up.

"Everyone, climb into the barrels, quickly!" the hobbit ordered.

"Are you mad?" Dwalin summed up what the rest of us were thinking. "They'll find us!"

"No, no, they won't," he said. "I promise you. Please, please, you must trust me."

Dwalin turned back, shaking his head. I could only eye the barrel closest to me warily. It was clean and large enough for me to crouch up inside it at a push, but we were bound to be caught. The hobbit may have saved us from the cells, but his escape route was stupid to say the least.

He did however have Oakenshield on his side. One little glance in our leader's direction was all it took.

"Do as he says," Oakenshield ordered, and I found myself being lifted up into the barrel, climbing in legs first.

"What do we do now?" Bofur asked, and we all peered out from our respective barrels.

"Hold your breath," was all the hobbit said.

"What?" I exclaimed, along with the others, watching with horror as the hobbit pulled on a lever and suddenly we were being lifted up into the air.

Rolling along with the barrel, down the raised plinth, I could only shout out in surprise as the floor fell out beneath us and we were crashing into water below.

Spluttering and swearing, I could only cling to the barrel as it swayed in the water.  _ Damn hobbit _ , I cursed, and sure enough, he appeared, crashing into the water without a barrel of his own. Nori, at least, managed to grab onto him.

"Well done, Master Baggins," Oakenshield cried, before shouting out to the rest of us. "Come on! Let's go."

Not that we needed much instruction. The barrels were already moving. The hobbit had led us to an underground river and already we were beginning to pick up speed.

"Hold on!" Oakenshield roared, as the cavern opened up into daylight. Several barrels back, I watched, horrified, as he and the other dwarves before me disappeared sharply over an edge.

Yet there was nothing I could do to stop myself from following them. Holding tightly to the sides of the barrel (and holding my breath for good measure), I followed them down the steep waterfall, plunging into the white spray of the crashing water below.

Coughing, spluttering and soaked to my skin, I reared up; my barrel still mercifully bobbing along. My hair and beard were plastered to my face and as I pushed them away, I spotted to my horror just what lay ahead.

Large stones protruded from the water. My barrel missed the first one, but then we just caught the second. I cried out in pain, clutching my grazed arm, just as we plunged into yet more fast-flowing water.

But we weren't free, at least not just yet. Up ahead rose the river gates, thankfully open, and beyond that, our way out of the forest. But before we could reach it, a horn sounded out. Heavily-armoured guards ran into position, weapons and shields drawn.

In a barrel beside me, Kili swore aloud. The gates. The gates were closing.

"No," I cried. "No, no, no. Move! Move faster!" But my barrel was oblivious to my instructions. It only followed the other barrels, under the bridge and piled up behind the closed gates and other barrels, bobbing uselessly in the water.

_ No. We were so close; so close to freedom _ . Swearing, I smacked the side of the barrel.  _ So close to getting away from these bloody elves _ .

One such bloody elf, a guard no less, fell into the water, narrowly missing my head. I didn't need to hear the preceding growl or see the arrow protruding from the elf's back to know just how bad the situation now was.

"Watch out!" Bofur exclaimed. "There's Orcs!"

So they had finally caught up with us and at the very worst of times. We had no weapons, no wizard and we were stuck in barrels held up on a river by elves.

Another elf fell from the bridge, although this one landed on me, almost taking me and the barrel with him. He disappeared down into the water, weighed down by all of his armour, before I could really come to my senses. But then any thought of him soon left my head when another body, a very much alive Orc, jumped down from the bridge and onto my barrel.

The foul beast's face was only inches from mine; a grisly sneer on his face as he raised his sword. Jumping up, I managed to grab his wrist, hanging on desperately as he swung his arm. The barrel swayed dangerously, and we would both have toppled out into the water had not a large fist smacked the side of the Orc's face, knocking him, stunned, into the water.

"I had him!" I exclaimed.

"Sure you did," Dwalin replied, before he was set upon again by another Orc.

My Orc from before however would not just stay dead. Already he was grabbing at the barrel again, growling as he pulled himself up out of the water. But, then again, I had just managed to grab something from the water before it sunk.

"Forgetting something?" I said, before slashing him across the throat with his own blade.

The Orc could only gape, grasping at his torn throat, before he fell back into the water for the last time. Clutching his blade, I turned around to find another Orc clinging to my barrel, just as Kili pulled himself out of his and hopped over mine.

"What the-?" I cried, before bringing down the blade onto the other Orc's head. "Kili!" But the younger dwarf knew what he was doing.

On the stone steps above, I glimpsed him fighting off two Orcs, before one was taken out by a thrown sword. He managed to decapitate the other, sending its head rolling down towards the river and disgustingly into my barrel.

I threw it aside, spotting only then an Orc clambering up the side of Fili's barrel. It had been Fili who had thrown the sword, and it was him then facing off another Orc with just his fists. Leaning forward, I managed to stab the Orc in the back, through a gap in his armour. Fili turned then, only to see the Orc dying on the end of my blade.

"Thanks," he managed to say.

"No problem," I said, although I was struggling to retrieve my blade back from the beast. His body was too heavy, my grip too slick. Without meaning too, I lost hold of the blade and could only watch as it and the Orc's body sunk away.

But there was no time to mourn its loss. Another Orc jumped down from the bridge and then another. I could only swing out, surrounded, pummelling the Orcs as they grabbed ahold of my barrel with only my fists to protect me.

A swoosh and a thwuck from an arrow above sounded but I would not have paid too much attention to it had not Fili shouted out in horror beside me.

"Kili!" he cried.

_ Kili? _ I looked up, my fist frozen in mid-air, only to watch the dark-haired dwarf fall.  _ No, no _ . It couldn't be.

Kili was down.


	12. Downriver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves make a thrilling escape before Thranduil can settle them with a bill...

"Kili!"

The shout left my throat before I could even help myself.  _ He had been hit. He had gone down. _ I kept my eyes upwards, willed for the familiar dark head to reappear.  _ Where had the arrow hit? Was it fatal? Was he dead? _

Before I could find an answer, an orc grabbed a handful of my hair and began to pull me backwards against my barrel. Crying out in pain, I swung my fist around, catching the orc on the face and only causing him to tighten his grip.

"Let go of me!" I shouted, and spun around, punching the orc's nose again harder. His grip lessened and he fell backwards into the water with a great splash. Breathless, wincing still, I looked up to the other river bank. I could only watch, horrified, as orc after orc swarmed over the elves' defences. Yet there was some hope though, surprisingly in the form of our former captors. The she-elf that had been talking to Kili in his cell was launching arrow after arrow, taking down any orc that came into her path. The pale-haired elf from before too was fighting amongst the fray. For elves, they didn't fight too badly.

But I didn't have much time to admire their fighting styles. Another hand was clawing for my throat. I spun around again only for a sudden lurch to send me almost reeling backwards from the barrel and the orcs around it to lose their grip.

_ The gates. _ They were opening. I looked back up to the lever only to see Kili, weakened and with an arrow protruding from his leg, clutching it before he fell back again.

"Kili!" Fili cried out, panicked. Our barrels were already beginning to move forward.

But there was no reason to fear. The injured dwarf managed to roll himself from the bridge and land, awkwardly but alive, into his barrel.

"Idiot," I said, shaking my head, though I clapped him on the back nonetheless as our barrels began to move out from under the bridge. He had freed us, even to the point of having his leg shot.

But our troubles were far from over.

Before we made it more than a few feet from the gate, our barrels were pulled down a sharp waterfall, dragging us along with them. Coughing and spluttering, we emerged from the water, only to fall down another waterfall and then another.

Struggling to keep my eyes open and my mouth clear of water, I lost track of the other barrels; my only concern being the water and the barrel's resistance to it. Only as an arrow embedded itself into the side of the barrel did I realise we were still being pursued. Turning my head, I caught the sight of orc figures running after us on the river banks with elves behind them.

I could only hold the view for a second before, once more, I was plunged into white spray. Gasping for breath, my hands caught something solid and warm. Only as the spray eased and the river slowed could I see whose arm I was clinging to.

"Ori," I gasped, mostly relieved to see that it wasn't an orc, but also that the young dwarf was still in one piece. He managed a weak wet smile, before the river turned again and his arm slipped from my grip.

The orcs were gaining some ground on us. Another arrow narrowly missed my arm, hitting the side of my barrel barely an inch from where it had just been. Up ahead, an orc had even leapt at Balin, only to end up impaled to an over-hanging tree trunk by Oakenshield. Our leader caught the beast's sword, which he threw back to Dwalin, to Nori, who then threw it to Fili, just a barrel ahead of me. He took his chance, swung, and brought an orc on the side crashing down into the river and almost on top of me.

This did not stop them from attacking further. As we were swept around another bend, one managed to jump out and land behind me on my barrel, blade raised. The barrel jolted- the river dipped again- and the orc lost his balance. He regained it, but only by wrapping his arm around my shoulders and leaving his skin exposed to my teeth.

I don't know who was louder them: him screaming or me retching, spitting out his foul blood. Either way, he lost his grip and plunged backwards into the fast-moving water.

Up ahead, a whole band of orcs were assembling on a fallen log across the water. Oakenshield struck the log with an axe as he passed; Dwalin finished the job for him, sending the Orcs crashing down into the water around us. One managed to grab ahold of the side of my barrel only to be hit in the face with bloody spit and then my fist. Before he let go though, I managed to wrestle his spear from his grip.

I wasn't the only dwarf struggling to fend them off. One attack caused Bombur and his barrel to fly out of the waster and onto the riverbank, crashing through the Orc pack and flattening all and anything that came into his path.

The spear I had acquired was proving more trouble than its worth. At first, I could barely keep hold of it, holding it as far above the water as I could. Secondly, I could barely use it- it was far too big for me.

I could only shrug an apology to Dwalin, having almost knocked him out when I swung it around. Before though I could catch any of his better swear words, I saw an opportunity. Pulling my arm back, I threw the spear with as much energy as I could muster. It made it across the water and into the leg of an orc close to the riverside. He was still yowling as we turned down yet another bend.

Down another waterfall we plunged, only for an elf to join us. The pale-haired elf seemed to appear from nowhere, leaping out and landing with a foot each on Dori's and Dwalin's heads. The sight of him: spinning and almost pirouetting on Dori's head, his bow nocked, would have been amusing at any other point had he not drawn more orcs towards us.

He managed to shoot some of the orcs, before he bounced onto Kili and onto the opposite side. If only he had remained there. Having taken out the orcs on that side, he had then decided to use us as a bridge again, even using my own head as one of his stepping stones.

Cursing him aloud, I could only clutch my head and shout out in pain as the river once more descended into a series of sharp drops. But the elf did not reappear. Nor did his red-haired she-elf companion.

Oakenshield was shouting out something in glee. Looking back over my shoulder, I just made out the lone figure of the pale-haired elf watching us from a distance. He was no longer following us.

We had done it. We had made it past whatever borders the elves had set up and now there was nothing they could do about it. My smirk however was lost on the pale-haired elf when the river once more dipped and by the time I regained balance, the figure had disappeared from view.

The orcs continued to chase us, but they were far fewer in number and couldn't keep up so well. Within a few sharp river bends, they too had disappeared from view.

As the forest began to thin, the river's speed too eased. My first close encounter with orcs had definitely been a memorable one; with or without the mad barrel river escape. I was alive though and in one piece, although I had yet to shift the rank taste of orc from my mouth, and, by the looks of it, the rest of the Company had made it too. Even Bombur didn't look too bad for his impromptu barrel-roll.

"Anything behind us?" Oakenshield shouted.

"Not that I can see," Balin replied.

"I think we've out-run the orcs," said Bofur.

"Not for long," Oakenshield, of course, had to put a downer on the moment. "We've lost the current. Make for the shore!"

Wearily, I leant forward and began to paddle the barrel towards where the rocks on the river-side were the smallest. Before I could even completely reach the shore, a pair of hands - Dwalin's - were grasping me under my arms and pulling me out.

Finally on solid ground, I could only crawl a few feet in-land before I collapsed, retching up river water, against it. My lungs clear, I took a moment to lovingly stroke the still rock beneath me. If I ever saw a barrel, an orc or an elf again, it would be too soon.

Someone groaned loudly just above my head. Looking up, I saw Kili sat on a rock and clutching at his injured knee.

"I'm fine," he said to someone. "It's nothing."

"On your feet," Oakenshield said, walking just past me. I could only shoot him a sullen look, before slowly pulling myself up to my knees.

"Kili's wounded," Fili said. "His leg needs binding."

"There's an orc pack on our tail." Oakenshield would not back down. "We keep moving."

"To where?" said Balin.

"To the mountain," said the hobbit. "We're so close."

"A lake lies between us and that mountain," said Balin. "We have no way to cross it."

"So we go around."

"The orcs will run us down, as sure as daylight," Dwalin joined in. "We've no weapons to defend ourselves."

"Bind his leg, quickly," Oakenshield snapped. "You have two minutes."

Two minutes to bind a leg? Slowly, I pulled myself to my feet, just as Oin was walking over.

"Fetch some river water, Nithi," he said.

"Haven't we enough of that already," I said, sourly, wringing the end of my tunic and almost bringing out half of the river with it.

"For the wound!" the older dwarf said, impatiently.

Grumbling, I turned back for the river and managed to cup up some water in my hands, most of which I managed to carry back and throw over the wound. Not that the wound looked too bad; bloody, mostly, but Oin had managed to remove whatever was left of the arrow head within Oakenshield's strict two-minute limit. Kili however looked extremely pale; he grimaced and swore as the cool water hit his knee.

He did quieten down though when his brother began to bind it. Finding myself no longer needed, I sat down beside them on the rock, wearily contemplating just how much further we had to go. None of us had eaten or slept much since Beorn's and, if Balin was correct, we would still have a great deal further to go before we could eat or sleep again. If only we hadn't had the orc pack on our backs. These rocks weren't proving too uncomfortable after all and..

An arrow shot out, as if from nowhere, almost hitting Ori and splintering Dwalin's staff. Orcs? I sat up bolt right as another arrow hit, knocking a rock straight out of Kili's raised hand.

"What the-?"

A figure loomed over one of the rocks; a silhouette against the sky - not an orc, but no friend either. Bow raised, arrow nocked, the figure tilted his head.

"Do it again... And you're dead."

I turned my eyes up to the heavens for support. The figure may not have been an orc, but neither was he an elf. Somehow, the Company had managed to make an enemy of a Man.

Balin, at least, was willing to reason with him.

"Excuse me," he said. "But, um, you're from Laketown, if I'm not mistaken."

The man turned his bow onto Balin, causing the older dwarf to take a cautious step back and the rest of us to bristle.  _ Who was this man? And who did he think he was? _ If we all were as armed, he wouldn't have dared, no matter how good a shot he was.

"That barge over there," Balin continued. "It wouldn't be available for hire by any chance?"

That got the man to lower his bow, albeit with much reluctance. He climbed down from his rock and stalked past us, without a word, to where we had left the barrels bobbing aimlessly by the shore. He was quite tall for a man - he did tower over the rest of us - and in his middling years if the lines on his face and the grey streaks in his hair were anything to go by.

"What makes you think I would help you?" the bargeman finally said, having lifted, rolled and carried most of the barrels onto his barge.

We, dwarves, all stood awkwardly on the shore; none of us willing to talk to the man other than Balin. Kili had managed to get back onto his feet, although not without some help from his brother. He did however end up sitting on a rock, whilst Balin attempted to reason with the bargeman.

"Those boots have seen better days," Balin said. "As has that coat. No doubt you have some hungry mouths to feed. How many bairns?"

Really? We were talking about children now? We were only wasting time. The bargeman did not seem willing to help.

He did however reply courteously enough to Balin.

"A boy and two girls," he said, stiffly.

"And your wife? I imagine she's a beauty," Balin said.

"Aye," the bargeman said. "She was."

I could only groan at that and resist smacking my forehead.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Oh, come on. Come on." Thankfully, Dwalin had some sense. "Enough of the niceties."

"What's your hurry?" the bargeman said.

"What's it to you?" retorted Dwalin.

"I would like to know who you are and what you are doing in these lands."

"We are simple merchants from the Blue Mountains, journeying to see our kin in the Iron Hills," Balin said. The bargeman shot us all an uncertain look, not that I could blame him for that. Drenched and wearing nothing but our most threadbare clothes, there was no way any of us could pass for merchants.

"Simple merchants, you say?" Balin's answer seemed to amuse the bargeman as much as it bemused him.

"We need food, supplies,... weapons," Oakenshield interrupted. "Can you help us?"

"I know where these barrels came from," the bargeman said.

"What of it?"

"I don't know what business you had with the Elves, but I don't think it ended well."

_ Really _ ?  _ No shit. _

"No one enters Laketown but by leave of the master," the bargeman continued. "All his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm. He would see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil." He cast off the rope.

"I'll wager there's ways to enter that town unseen," Balin added, quickly.

"Aye. But, for that, you would need a smuggler."

"For which we would pay. Double."

Money then was what persuaded the bargeman to let us onboard, albeit reluctantly. With a grunt and a nod, we had permission to board. As the other dwarves went to climb aboard, I turned around to pick up my shield only to stop myself.

Of course, I thought, looking back down to where the river turned. The elves still had it, along with my sword. As the goblins still had my bedroll and my money.

Cursing each and every one of them, I turned for the boat and climbed up, just as the bargeman pulled the last of the ropes from the side. Without my weapons and my bedroll, now all I had to my name were the smelly clothes I had left Ered Luin with all that long time ago. Bloody elves. Bloody goblins.

Tired, hungry and not in the best of moods, I found a corner of the barge free to sit in and some sackcloth to keep me warm. My clothes still felt wet, no matter how many times I wrung them out, and it was hardly as if we had the weather on our sides. The early sunshine had now disappeared behind a thick layer of cloud and a fog was settling over the lake. The temperature was low, low enough for there still to be chunks of ice on the water, and if I breathed hard enough, I could see my own air. But with this heavy fog, that in itself was something.

"Watch out!" Bofur cried, as, without warning, giant shapes emerged from the fog and just ahead of the boat. Ruins: arches, plinths, stone. Not that they mattered too much. The bargeman steered the boat through them easily enough, although Oakenshield still found reason to complain.

"What are you trying to do? Drown us?"

"I was born and bred on these waters, master dwarf," the bargeman said. "If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here."

Hardly reassuring.

"I've had enough of this lippy lakeman," Dwalin said, in a low voice. "I say we throw him over the side and be done with it."

That didn't seem too bad an idea, but it meant moving and I was just starting to feel some vague hint of warmth underneath my sackcloth.

"Bard. His name is Bard!" The hobbit, standing with his arms folded, spoke out.

"How do you know?" Bofur asked.

"Ah, I asked him."

"When did you do that?" I grumbled, from under the sackcloth. Not that I had been paying the hobbit any real attention.

"I don't care what he calls himself," Dwalin said. "I don't like him."

"We do not have to like him," his brother said, from where he sat counting up the fare. "We simply have to pay him. Come on now, lads. Turn out your pockets."

Groaning, the other dwarves began to delve into various pockets, pulling out coins and pouches and passing it along to Balin.

"There's a wee problem," he said, having counted them all. "We're ten coins short.

"Nithi?" he said, after I had thought I had gotten away with it. "You got anything still?"

"No," I said, with a regretful shrug. "The goblins took my bedroll with everything inside it." Almost everything.

"What about your boots?" a voice piped up.  _ Nori. The elf-faced bastard. _

"What about them?" I said, gritting my teeth.

"Didn't you used to keep a little something always in them?"

Balin raised his eyebrows. The other dwarves all turned their heads.

"Fine," I said, relenting. I sat up, began to tug at my boot, all the while scowling at my old comrade. "But it won't smell good."

Having taken the remaining five coins to my name (and having watched me shake out both boots twice), Balin turned back to the coins.

"Still five short," he said.

"Gloin?" Oakenshield said, only then turning his attention to the money situation. "Come on. Give us what you have."

"Don't look to me," the dwarf exclaimed. "I have been bled dry by this venture and what have I seen for my investment..." He continued to babble on, ignorant all the while to whatever had grabbed his brother's and then the other dwarves' attention.

Looking back over my shoulder, I too caught sight of it. Slowly, I too came up to my feet, holding onto the side, as the Lonely Mountain - the closest we had seen it yet - emerged from the fog.

"Take it," Gloin said, presumably throwing whatever he had left at Balin. "Take all of it."

Two more pairs of hands joined me at the barge's side.

"Erebor," Fili whispered, staring up at the mountain with a solemn reverence. From within the tangled damp mess his hair had become, I spotted a familiar hint of silver. His father's hair beads had reached the mountain after all.

Kili too was staring up at the mountain, but he looked more queasy than reverent. He stumbled slightly, but his brother's hand was quick to grab him and to hold him up.

"The money. Quick. Give it to me." We all turned our heads as the bargeman stalked towards us.

"We will pay you when we get our provisions, but not before," Oakenshield said.

"If you value your freedom, you will do as I say," the bargeman said. "There are guards ahead."

As the mountain had emerged from the fog, so too was the distant rooftops of what had to be Lake Town.

"Get in the barrels," the bargeman said, his eyes firmly set ahead. "Quickly."

He had to be joking.

"I'm not getting into that again," I said. "Never." But a hand was on back and I was shepherded over to where the barrels sat.

"Do as he says," Oakenshield said, not particularly towards me, but none of the other dwarves seemed to be arguing, even Dwalin was climbing in. Grumbling, I climbed in and crouched down.

The bargeman continued on for a little bit, before the boat stopped. From his footsteps against the wood and then muffled voices, I could only guess he was talking to one of the guards.

"Sssh. What's he doing?" Dwalin, from the barrel next to me, whispered.

The hobbit had the best view:

"He's talking to someone. He's pointing right at us!"

My stomach sunk then. Traitorous bargeman. We should have thrown him off when Dwalin had said so.

"Now they're shaking hands!"

This was it. We had got within the shadow of the mountain and now it was all over.  _ Damn bargeman. Elf-loving piece of- _

Above us, a chain rattled. This was it. We were going to end up in a cell in Lake Town, or back under Mirkwood.

But it wasn't the law that came down on us. No, that at least would have been much less smelly. Rather a whole cartload of fish and their innards landed onto our heads.

Gritting my teeth to stop myself from retching too hard at the smell, I could only grimace as the slimy fish covered firstly my boots, then my legs, my torso and then finally my head.

Gold, I thought back to that distant dream I had, I'd sooner drown in gold than fish guts.

If the feel of the fish against me wasn't bad enough, the smell was a thousand times worse. With no real air, it was choking and claustrophobic, but if I opened my mouth, I was bound to get a mouthful of fish goo.

Give me a cell, I thought, a nice clean cell. Don't give me fish. Don't ever give me fish again.

Even with all the fish stuffed around my head, I could make out similar groans from the other dwarves. Dwalin sounded ready to kill someone - most likely the bargeman.

"Quiet," the bargeman said. He was back and the boat was moving again. "We're approaching the toll-gate."


	13. Laketown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When even a damp town next to a dragon-infested mountain and full of people like Alfred proves to be a better option than staying with the elves...

Huddled and cramped up as I was beneath several layers of fish, I was struggling real hard to resist the urge to leap from the barrel and smack the bargeman one straight in the... Well, wherever I could reach. Maybe it was because I had never been much of a fan of fish, but mostly it was because the bargeman was likely enjoying our discomfort a little too much for my taste. Even if I had been able to escape from my smelly confinement, I was hardly going to reach anywhere to cause too much visible damage for the bargeman and plus the boat was already moving again. I could only keep myself crouched down low and my mouth closed firmly shut and buried into the sleeve of my tunic. I might have managed to keep my mouth free of entrails, but I still had to smell the rank odour every time I inhaled. Disgusted tears running down my cheeks, I could only push myself further against the barrel's side and try to figure out what the bargeman was really up to.

"Morning, Percy," he called out, answering in reply to something muffled, something from this Percy fellow.

"Anything to declare?" I could just about catch Percy's voice, muffled as it was by a layer of stinking fish.

"Nothing," the bargeman replied, his footsteps sounding out against the deck, "but that I am cold and tired and ready for home."

"You and me both," Percy replied with a dry chuckle.

_ Enough _ , I thought, with stinging eyes and my clenched jaw aching already.  _ Get me out of here! _

"There we are," Percy finally said. "All in order."

"Not so fast," another voice sounded out. My queasy stomach plummeted.

" _ Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm _ ," the voice sounded out, reading something aloud. "Only... they're not empty," the slimy voice concluded, "are they, Bard? If I recall correctly, you're licensed as a bargeman." Another pair of footsteps on the deck. We were done for. "Not..." he added, "a fisherman."

"That's none of your business." The bargeman's reply was detectably cool. He did not seemed fazed by the other man's interrogation, but why would he? He wasn't playing fugitive at the bottom of a barrel. He had our money now. If he wanted to (and he most likely did) he could save himself a job, easily rat us out now, hand us over to the town's authorities and sail off with our remaining coin. I'd be tempted to do the same myself if I was standing in his boots. But then again, I wasn't.

"Wrong," the voice continued, "it's the master's business, which makes it my business."

"Oh, come on, Alfrid," the bargeman replied, "have a heart. People need to eat."

"These fish are illegal!" Alfrid cried. "Empty the barrels over the side."

_ No _ , I thought,  _ no! _ Desperately, I pushed my hands against the barrel's sides, praying that I could hold myself in place as a set of armed footsteps and raised voices came ever closer.

"Folk in this town are struggling." The bargeman at least hadn't sold us out at this point. His voice however was not as calm as before. Above me came a cool rattle as a mailled pair of hands grasped the top of my barrel.

"Times are hard," he continued to speak, "food is scarce." My barrel was beginning to shift, beginning to tilt. _No, no, no_. Splashes below told me I was already losing fish, losing cover. _No, no, no._ _Mahal, no_.

"That's not my problem," Alfrid responded.

"And when people hear the master is dumping fish back in the lake," the bargeman said. "When the rioting starts, will it be your problem then?"

"Stop!" I swallowed back the sudden lump in my throat as my barrel was righted and the guards' heavy footsteps backed off.

"Ever the people's champion, eh, Bard?" Alfrid sneered, following the guards from the boat. "Protector of the common folk. You might have their favour now, bargeman, but it won't last."

"Raise the gates!" Percy shouted out, and the barge lurched itself back into action.

But Alfrid was not finished:

"The Master has his eye on you; you'd do well to remember that. We know where you live!"

"It's a small town, Alfrid" the bargeman coolly replied, "everyone knows where everyone lives."

The barge pressed ahead then, away from the tollgate, and further into what had to be Lake Town. The bargeman was quiet for the most part, other than when he responded to any greeting thrown his way. The town really must have been small: it didn't seem a minute passed without a voice calling out for him, but the town didn't exactly feel small enough. Rather the journey from the tollgate felt like the longest I had ever endured.

The barge finally lurched to a stop and, with a crash and a splutter, the first barrel (Nori's, was it?) was kicked over and the dwarf freed. My own deliverance was no less dignified. The bargeman booted my barrel over, sending me sliding out across the damp floor of his barge on a small wave of fish and innards. Squirming my way free from the fish, I managed to crawl forward only far enough to dry heave over the side of the boat. If I had disliked fish before, I certainly hated them now.

Resisting the urge to run my tongue over the wood of the boat (anything to remove the salty taste from my mouth), I climbed to my feet and turned back to face the others. None of them looked any worse for it really, just slimy, wet and queasy. As the bargeman paid off another townie, they were clambering off of the boat and onto the unevenly paved walkway.

"Feeling alright there, Nee?" asked a smirking Nori. "Looking a little green there."

"Never better," I snapped back, pushing dirty strands of hair from my face, my stomach still rolling. "You might want to-" I gestured to the flattened mess his hair had become. "-sort that out." That, at least, wiped the smirk off of the vain oaf's face.

Not that there was much time for conversation anyway. The bargeman was in a hurry to get us all under cover and he stormed past us, barking at us to follow him.

Away from the canal he drew us, under overhanging wooden structures and into dark, twisted passageways. We might have all stank like something unholy, but the town hardly seemed to fare much better. A damp grey haze seemed to hang over it, clinging to its buildings and over its people. No wonder the bargeman seemed such a cheerless fellow. Anyone stuck in a town like this must have had the life drained from them early on.

"Da!" A young pale-faced lad ran out to the bargeman. This must have been one of the bairns Balin was so interested to learn about. "Our house. It's being watched!"

This drew us all to a sharp halt. All eyes turned to the bargeman, yet he seemed uncertain enough; his eyes darting nervously around for a solution. Beside me, an annoyed Dwalin groaned under his breath, folded his arms, just waiting for the bargeman to admit failure and leave us stranded. At least my own pessimism was shared.

But the man didn't - or at least, he didn't after a sudden idea came to his son. The lad seemed shy enough to reveal it to the rest of us, drawing his father down to his level and whispering it into his ear.

"Change of plan," the bargeman announced, and maybe I had misjudged him as there now seemed to be a trace of amusement on his face. "This way."

"You have to be joking?" For once, I was in total agreement with Nori. After everything we had endured already that morning: imprisonment, escaping in barrels, being chased by orcs, smuggled in under fish... sneaking into the bargeman's house through the toilet could only be a new low for us.

"You want to remain unseen?" the bargeman snapped. "This is the only way. You will be under water for a moment at the most."

The rest of the Company still blustered at that. The bargeman's temper must have been frayed enough at this point as he gestured to his son instead to explain it to us. The lad too blustered, colour rising in his cheeks.

"You'll get into the water from the alley's edge, swim below the wooden deck and up through the... toilet."

The company - its loudest objectors being likely me, Dori, Nori, Dwalin and a particularly indignant Bifur, still argued on until we were shushed by Oakenshield, who had remained quiet throughout the entire debacle.

"Are you sure it's our only way in?" he asked, coolly.

The bargeman nodded, but I had seen his amused expression beforehand. He was taking too much pleasure from this. Of course it was a trick! We all began to raise our voices again only to be silenced once more by a sharp look from the company's leader.

"Quiet. Do you wish to alert the guard?" the bargeman said, already eyeing the entrance of the crowded alleyway as if expecting a whole host to suddenly appear.

"Very well," Oakenshield said, albeit reluctantly, his eyes scanning over us one-by-one. "We can hardly smell any worse."

With a bad-tempered snarl in the direction of the bargeman and his son, Dwalin was the first to submerge himself into the icy water of the canal.

"Remember. Keep your heads low. Swim a yard or so until you reach the... hole." The edge of the bargeman's mouth momentarily creased, but he and his son left before anyone could call him out on it.

I watched Dwalin lower his head, all the while staring at the murky canal water. If this was where the toilet led to then....

"Give me another barrel of fish," I muttered under my breath. "Anything but this." A hand was on my back and guiding me forward.

"Keep your mouth shut, lass," Bofur said, for once removing his hat and tucking it under his arm to reveal a surprising bald patch. "Anything could be floating in there."

"Thanks," I said through gritted teeth, as if the thought hadn't come to my own head. I waited until Bofur had submerged and then, groaning, followed him to the water's edge.

The water was cold enough to take my breath away. Gasping, I momentarily forgot Bofur's warning and took a mouthful of some of foulest-tasting water I had ever been unfortunate enough to try. My loud splutters though were silenced as a hand leaned down and pushed me roughly under.

Submerged, I could only squint, eyes struggling to stay open in the murky water. The deck however was not too hard to follow if I kept one hand up and so I half-dragged myself, half-swam over to the toilet hole where another hand hauled me up.

"I told you so," Bofur said, much to my annoyance as I clambered free of the bargeman's toilet and retched up canal water all over the bargeman's toilet floor.

"Da, why are there dwarves coming out of our toilet?" A human girl, the bargeman's daughter apparently, was leaning over a railing as I wearily made my way up the stairs after Bofur.

"Will they bring us luck?" Another girl, younger than the first, piped up.

She must have had yet to see the state of her toilet's floor.

For all the bargeman's gruffness, he was a hospitable enough host, especially when compared with the hospitality of our last hosts, the elves of Mirkwood. He left us awhile in the company of his two daughters and beside a weak fire. Shivering, I accepted the tunic with a small 'thanks' only to receive an odd look from the younger girl. She didn't say a word, merely took my wet clothes from me whilst I huddled, still in my damp, fishy bottoms, under the rough spun brown tunic. It was old, threadbare, and didn't smell much better than my trousers, but it was warm and dry.

I was just starting to doze off, in the little corner I had made my own, tucked up within the folds of the bargeman's tunic, when a bowl of soup was thrust into my hands. Sleepily, I took a mouthful, then another and another until I was scraping the chipped, wooden bowl in my desperation for more. It was barely more than a bowl of water and the odd chunk of vegetable, but I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten and I couldn't imagine much food on the horizon. Just as I was looking around for seconds (and I was not the only dwarf to do so), I caught sight of Oakenshield, staring out of the bargeman's window with a fierce intensity.

The hobbit joined him and that's when I lost interest, regaining it only when I heard Balin speak up; he too joining them by the window. It was then that I saw what had grabbed Oakenshield's attention so: some large wooden weapon, like a cross-bow, but larger, placed atop one of the town's few high vantage points.

"He has," Balin said, quietly. "The last time we saw such a weapon, a city was on fire. It was the day the dragon came."

As with his tale of Azanulbizar, I found myself once more drawn in by Balin's softly spoken tale, finding myself not the only member of the Company left envisioning his words as if they were happening before our eyes.

"The day that Smaug destroyed Dale, Girion, the Lord of the city, rallied his bowmen to fire upon the beast," the old dwarf said, turning his face sadly towards the window and to the wind-lance beyond.

"But a dragon's hide is tough, tougher than the strongest armour. Only a black arrow, fired from a wind-lance, could have pierced the dragon's hide, and few of those arrows were ever made.

"His store was running low when Girion made his last stand."

Balin left his story there with a heavy sigh, turning away from the window. Once more I found my eyes drawn to the wind-lance across the town's skyline. What a macabre souvenir, I thought with a grimace. Every young dwarf had some vague scrap of knowledge of Dale's fate against the dragon. Girion's stand would have certainly been his last, along with many others that day. The fact that the wind-lance still stood, here in the remnants of Laketown, made me question (and not for the first time) the sense of Men.

(Although, then again, with a dragon as a neighbour, perhaps keeping the wind lance was not such a bad idea...)

'Had the aim of Men been true that day, much would have been different," Oakenshield said, with a bitter edge to his voice. Even I couldn't blame him for that.

It seemed though that Balin's audience was not limited only the dwarves and hobbit.

"You speak as if you were there," the bargeman spoke up.

"All dwarves know the tale," Oakenshield replied, frostily.

"Then you would know that Girion hit the dragon." It was the bargeman's son who spoke up next, all earlier shyness forgotten in his haste to correct us. "He loosened a scale under the left wing. One more shot and he would have killed the beast."

Dwalin scoffed at that.

"That's a fairy story, lad. Nothin' more."

"You took our money," Oakenshield was now past caring for stories. He fixed the bargeman with a steely look. "Where are the weapons?"

The bargeman's look was no friendlier. It took a long moment for him to respond and only with an icy "wait here".

And wait we did. Finding there to be no seconds (and not much else in the kitchen), I left my bowl on the table and returned to my position by the fire, only to find it had been occupied by a familiar spikey-haired foe.

"Move," I said, uncharitably, shoving him aside and reclaiming as much of my old spot as I could. He too shoved me back. How we had ever managed to work together in the past was beyond me, I thought, sourly staring into the flames as Nori fidgeted and mucked around with his hair beside me. Perhaps Nori's long absences from Ered Luin kept him as a reasonably acceptable acquaintance. Living with him for months on end however had really tested whatever comradeship we had had before as well as testing what little patience I owned.

"You missed a spot," I said, waiting for the moment when the fidgeting stopped and for Nori to seem reasonably happy with his hairstyle. His loud curses however were drowned out with the reappearance of the bargeman, weighed down by what had to be our weapons, hidden under some damp black cloth. He slammed it down onto the table as us dwarves surrounded it, eager to see just what the man had to offer.

Not that he had anything even close to decent considering the price we had paid for it. I snatched up one 'weapon' only to find that it effectively was a mouldy stick with a twisted bit of metal at the end. Not for the first time that day, I found myself cursing the elves of Mirkwood and the fact that they still had my precious sword and shield in their keep.

"What is this?" snarled Oakenshield, clearly as happy with this arrangement as the rest of us.

"Pike hook," the bargeman replied. "Made from an old harpoon."

"And this?" Kili asked, gesturing to some rusty hammer-like object in Fili's hands.

"A crowbill, we call it. Fashioned from a smithy's hammer. It's heavy in hand, I grant, but in defense of your life, these will serve you better than none."

Maybe the crowbill might, but whatever weapon I had pulled out was hardly going to help me in a fight unless I intended to give the assailant blood poisoning from a rust-infected cut. Groaning, I threw it back down onto the pile and folded my arms.

"We paid you for weapons!" Gloin cried. "Iron-forged swords and axes!"

"It's a joke!" Bofur exclaimed, throwing his own selected weapon onto the growing reject pile.

"You won't find better outside the city armoury," the bargeman snapped. "All iron-forged weapons are held there under lock and key."

Perhaps these were really all that we could get. At least Balin seemed to think so, turning to Oakenshield.

"Thorin... Why not take what's been offered and go? I've made do with less; so have you. I say we leave now."

"You're not going anywhere!" the bargeman snapped again. His angry words startled me. I found myself eyeing the sharp rusty stick on the table. Would I need to use it so soon?

"What did you say?" Dwalin said, with a low snarl.

"There are spies watching this house and probably every dock and wharf in the town. You must wait till nightfall."

Groaning, I took a seat with the others at the bargeman's table. It was still bright enough outside the bargeman's house; nightfall would not be for a good few hours yet. Hours perhaps, I thought, as I found myself yawning, I could put to some use. Folding my arms and resting my head against the smooth wood of the table, I dozed for awhile until a rough hand shook me awake.

"Can't I get a moment, please?" I murmured, grumpily, from under a nest of hair.

"Not on our watch," Dwalin said, gruffly. "Get your things. We're leaving."

"What things?" I replied, with a snort, slowly rising to my feet. "The pikehook?"

"Enough of your lip," the older dwarf growled, turning to where the others were already assembling by the door.

"I can't let you leave!" The bargeman's son was already there, his arms thrown out in front of the door and his sisters watching anxiously close by. The bargeman however was nowhere in sight. "Da told you to stay."

"Bah," Dwalin retorted. "We've waited long enough. Move aside, lad." And, even though the human boy was a good few inches taller, he pushed the boy aside and wrenched open the door, revealing that day had since faded into night.

"Keep your voices down," Balin urged, as we crept from the house; the bargeman's son's protests still ringing in our ears. "We don't want to draw the guard onto us before we reach the armoury."

"Where even is the armoury?" Gloin cried, resulting in shushes and groans from the rest of the Company.

"A few streets from here," Kili whispered. I hadn't seen much of him since earlier that day and even in the dim street light, he still looked notably pale. He grimaced as he continued: "The older one,... Sigrid... she told me it was the rickety building, on the right, between a wharf and the bridge."

Of course he had been talking to the bargeman's daughter. My eyeroll however was lost to the darkness and to the haste in which we made our way through the crooked alleys and streets. The building Kili had described soon came into sight and the door stood mercifully seemingly unguarded, but the guards however were out in force on the streets. It took Dwalin quickly grabbing Ori and me by the scruffs of our neck to stop the pair of us from walking blindly out into the oncoming path of two patrolling guards.

"Watch yourselves," he growled, dragging us behind a docked boat. "You'll have us all in the nick at this rate."

Rubbing my throat, I scowled and turned away to find Oakenshield huddled together with the hobbit, Balin, and Nori. Seeing me lurking about, Balin waved me over.

"You reason it can be done?" Oakenshield said.

"With some help," Nori replied, "if you can get me up to the window, I can climb through."

Did Nori think himself part-spider? The window was a good ten feet up.

"That may be doable if we pile together. I've seen it done," Balin whispered. He turned to me: "What do you think, Nithi?"

If the others were surprised at Balin for including me in this discussion, they didn't show it. Rather I found myself being stared down by four sets of eyes, ranging from kind (Balin's) to stern (Thorin's) and to outright sceptical (Nori's).

"What about the door?" I suggested, flustered by all the sudden attention.

Nori snorted.

"Locked," he said. "You didn't think I'd check."

"Because they wouldn't lock the window either?" I retorted. "If you have to pick one, the door would be less noticeable than a bunch of dwarves scaling up a wall."

Oakenshield huffed at that, turning his gaze mercifully from me to the hobbit.

"Master Burglar," he said. "What do you think we should do?"

If I had been flustered when put on the spot, the hobbit seemed only more so.

"The- the window," he said. "It'll be the less obvious choice."

"Fine then," Oakenshield whispered, ignoring my appalled expression and turning to the others. "You'll pile up like this-" He gestured with his hands. "-beside the building. Nori, Bilbo, Kili and Bofur, you'll come with me inside." The others nodded. "Nithi." Much to my surprise, he turned to me. "You'll climb up with us. You can pick the door's lock downstairs."

If I was surprised at being picked out by the Company leader and for a task that relied a little too heavily on tricks I had used plenty of times before in my old life, I didn't have long to feel it. As if they had practiced this countless times before, the other dwarves managed to crouch down and on top of each other, forming what was effectively a dwarf staircase, if the low curses and grunts could be ignored.

"As soon as we have the weapons, we make straight for the mountain," Oakenshield hissed. He slapped Nori on the back. "Go, go, go." With an agility I never knew he had, I watched Nori run down the side, up onto the dwarves and easily through the window (what armoury would leave their window unlocked so?).

"Next," Oakenshield said, sending the hobbit forward.

I didn't wait for my signal. Running down the damp wooden side after the hobbit, I launched myself onto the dwarf staircase, grabbing onto rough tunics (and, more often than not, hair) to pull myself up. With one final boost from Fili (whoever thought standing on his head would be so satisfying?), I hoisted myself through the window and into the musty-smelling armoury room.

"Stairs that way," Nori said, a selection of weapons already in his arms. What a lovely way to greet someone who had just scaled ten feet worth of dwarves on his suggestion.

"Anyone down there?" I replied, moving aside to let Bofur past.

"Not that I know," came his helpful reply.

Carefully, I made my way down the dark, narrow staircase, thanking Mahal only when I found the lower rooms empty and the door free. I had been right on this point: this door at least was locked and, by the looks of it, not too difficult to pick open.

I was without nearly any tools of my trade; what little I had resided in my bedroll, somewhere deep within the Misty Mountains, but I could make do. Blindly searching around the dark room's corners and under various tables and chairs, I soon came across a loose nail, even if I had to stab myself to find it.

The lock was not so difficult. I had faced worse ones before - properly tended, dwarvish-cast things, and so this rusty, man-made thing was nothing when faced with me and my nail. With a few satisfying clicks, the door was unlocked and we were free to escape.

A pair of heavy boots, no doubt waylaid with weapons, sounded on the stairs.

"Ready," I called out over my shoulder, only to be answered with one of the loudest rackets I had ever had the misfortune to hear.

Turning just in time, I narrowly missed losing my head to a wave of falling weapons. Kili, weighed down with way too many swords and axes, must have missed a step and had tumbled down the remaining steps, sending heavy metal objects rattling down with him. For a long moment, silence returned; a silence only broken by Kili's gasping breaths, before the unmistakable sound of angry voices rose up from somewhere outside and not too far away.

Throwing the nail aside, I wrenched open the door only to find the other dwarves already at sword-point. Cursing, I slammed the door and grabbed up one of Kili's axes, backing my way to the stairs and to the other dwarves. Kili still remained down, his face twisted with pain and shock. I climbed the few remaining stairs to him, turning only as the door burst open and a number of armed guards emerged.

"Thieves!" one spat, unsheathing his sword. He crossed the room in two quick strides, snatching the axe from my hand and then snatching me up by the collar of my tunic. Against his long arms, my own were useless and I could only swing at the air as he threw first me and then Kili towards the other guards as he and his men went up the stairs and towards the rest of the Company.

"Dwarf scum," the guard now in charge of me said, sourly. Though his grip was tight enough on my tunic, he still felt the need to press his blade hard against my throat; not that Kili was having any more fun with own guard.

"Nice hat," I managed to spit out, earning myself a hard boot to the leg for my troubles.

As the others were pulled loudly down the stairs, the guards at the door pulled Kili and I backwards through it and out into the cold night air.

It was just beginning to snow as the city guards drove us through the city, their loud voices and torches drawing the attention of curious onlookers until a whole mob of townspeople were driving us forward to... to only Mahal knew where.

The guard whose hat I had complimented so nicely now had ahold of my arm. He was a good two feet taller than me and seemed to take some sick pleasure in dragging me along with his long strides.

"Let go," I grunted, struggling, but his grip only tightened and his pace only increased.

The mob drove us out to what had to be some form of meagre town square and before what had to be the town's largest house. At the foot of its stairs, my guard shoved me forward, almost into the legs of the guards' captain had I not regained my balance in time. Stepping back, I fell in beside Fili and a suitably-shamefaced Kili.

Just then, the doors of the mansion were flung open and a round, balding figure emerged, wrapped up in furs.

"What is the meaning of this?" he roared, over the din of the townspeople.

"We caught 'em stealing weapons, sire," the captain replied.

"Ah," the round man seemed pleased. "Enemies of the state, then."

Sourly, I spat out on the floor, rubbing the large bruise that was inevitably forming on the back of my calf. This wasn't my state to begin with.

"This is a bunch of mercenaries if ever there was, sire," the man's servant, a snivelling, mono-browed creature, piped up. I recognised that annoying tone from the man who had held us up at the customs gate that very morning. There was little satisfaction however in placing a voice to a face like that.

"Hold your tongue," Dwalin snarled, stepping forward. "You do not know to whom you speak. This is no common criminal; this is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!" He gestured to our Company leader, who stepped out beside his friend.

"We are the dwarves of Erebor," Oakenshield said, not that we looked all too magnificent in the tattered clothes taken from the bargeman's. "We have come to reclaim our homeland." He turned to face the assembled crowd. "I remember this town in the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbour, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake! This was the centre of all trade in the North."

Looking around at the dingy town and its dingier inhabitants, these days of old really must have been a long time ago.

"I would see those days return," Oakenshield continued. "I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!"

The inhabitants, having only moments before been baying for our blood, seemed suddenly a lot more inclined to like us. I almost caught a smile on Oakenshield's face as he stared out into the cheering crowd. Not that his moment lasted long.

"Death!" Looking over my shoulder, I watched as the bargeman moved through the crowd, his face contorted with anger. "That is what you will bring upon us. Dragon-fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, you will destroy us all."

That seemed to dampen the mood, as if this town needed to get any more damp. Already the people were turning to their neighbours and muttering amongst themselves. Couldn't the bargeman leave off long enough for us to escape? 

"You can listen to this naysayer," Oakenshield spat, "but I promise you this. If we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain. You will have enough gold to build Esgaroth ten times over!" he roared, much to the crowd's reignited enthusiasm. 

"All of you, listen to me!" The bargeman continued, struggling to have himself heard over the din. "You must listen! Have you all forgotten what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?" Once more, the crowd's mood dimmed.

"And for what?" he continued, turning his fierce gaze onto our leader. "The blind ambition of a mountain-king so riven with greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!"

"Now, now!" It was the balding, round man's turn to step forward. "We must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame. Let us not forget it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor, who failed to kill the beast!"

No wonder the bargeman's son had felt so strongly about the story. The bargeman at least had the grace to look sheepish as the mood of the crowd began to turn against him. I could make out only a few jeers and none of them were repeatable much. 

"It's true, sire," the Alfrid bloke smirked. "We all know the story; arrow after arrow he shot, each one missing its mark."

The bargeman could take it no more. He took a step towards Thorin, a step too far perhaps for Dwalin who looked set to grab him, but the bargeman only had words for our leader.

"You have no right, no right to enter that mountain," he snarled. 

"I have the only right," Oakenshield retorted, staring down his opponent, before turning his back on him and addressing the town leader.

"I speak to the Master of the men of the Lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people? What say you?"

The balding man took his time considering; he only seemed to be savouring the tension he was causing. As each painful second passed, I felt my palms only grow clammier, my heartbeat only faster. When would he put us out of our misery?

"I say unto you... welcome! Welcome and thrice welcome, King Under The Mountain!" he finally roared, throwing his arms up as the crowd behind us broke out in celebration. 

Sheepishly, the city guards melted away as the crowd surged forward; all now eager to acquaint themselves with dwarf scum after all. They patted our hair, clapped us on our backs, pushed us up the stairs to the Master's mansion, all the while with the round man crying out: "A feast! A feast! Bring out the wine! And the meat!" 

Before though the great doors were closed, I managed one final look over my shoulder to the town beyond. Even in the dark, the solitary figure of the bargeman was unmistakable as he turned his back to the town and its people and fell back into shadow. 


	14. Welcome and Unwelcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprisingly the damp town doesn't prove to be all that welcoming...

Any thoughts I had of the bargeman were soon lost to the clamour and excitement of the Lake Town Master's party. Tables were brought out of corners, surfaces dusted off, and platters of food and bottles of drink - more of the stuff than I had seen in a long time - were carried out and served up. Meat and bread, fowl and - to my delight - fish. And wine. Enough wine to fill the lake itself perhaps if the Master so wished. Thankfully he seemed more keen to fill us with it and, especially, to fill the Mountain King he was so generously entertaining. The small town on the lake may have been starving, if the bargeman and his family were anything to go by, but the town's master certainly was not, and he at least was eager to sweeten us all up with what he had.

Not that I was complaining - or, at least, I was not complaining too much. I myself fancied being sweetened up and, well, if not completely sweetened, then I could settle for a leg of pork the size of my own head. This was something I found among the piles of food served up and I was just biting into its succulent, crispy flesh when an order from the Master caught my attention.

"Rooms," he barked to his servants, "for our friends here. The guest rooms. And bring them wash basins too!" he added. "We would hate for them to have to rest in their... their condition."

In polite words, we stank - not that I was completely unaware of this. I had never much been one to care much about cleanliness, but I still felt decidedly slimy from our earlier adventures and my dip in the canal had hardly improved my 'condition.' I was more than happy to swallow back the pork - and any retorts - and accept the Master's kind offer, following his serving woman up the stairs with her large basin and water jug.

The room she led me to was nowhere near as fancy as the one we had slept in at Rivendell. It seemed the Master only had three rooms to spare for his guests and these rooms themselves only held one rickety double bed in each and some space between it and a fireplace. Each fireplace was lit, casting shadows across each gloomy room. Nevertheless, I followed the girl into the smallest and gloomiest of the rooms (the only one that was currently free of the other dwarves) and, having waited for her to put the basin down and to leave, stripped off and began to scrub furiously at myself with the bar of lye soap provided.

The washcloth was soon caked in filth, as was the soap and wash basin. Plunging my head into it, I made a satisfactory enough job at washing my hair before stepping back and shaking it free over my shoulders. Lastly, I splashed water up into my face, brushing it through my beard with my fingers. I wasn't completely satisfied with my wash, but I felt a good deal more comfortable in my own skin - even if I was freezing cold, standing wet and naked as I was before the weak fire. The Master's windows were glass-paned and that seemed to keep the worst of the cold and light flurries of snow out. I would not have been so fortunate had I washed at the bargeman's house. Quickly squeezing my hair dry over the basin, I paused, holding my breath, as I heard two voices sound out by the door.

"I'll fetch Oin," came what I recognised to be Fili's low voice. Damn it. "He can look at it."

"Don't. Just- just leave it." That had to be Kili. Damn them, I thought bitterly, grabbing the towel and wrapping it quickly and tightly around myself. Did these lads have some hidden talent at disturbing me at moments like this?

"You know, what happened- it wasn't your fault. Uncle understands that. Everyone understands."

"They don't though."

The door opened and Kili stepped in, likely imagining the room to be empty or, at the very least, its inhabitants to be clothed. Rather his eyes grew almost to the size of the hobbit's dinner plates as he spotted me standing there, in the firelight, naked but for the towel, and full of righteous anger.

"One of these days I might actually be dressed when you walk in," I said, sourly, as Kili turned around, spluttering apologies, his brother peeking over his shoulder, only to look away also. "Or better yet, you might learn to actually knock!"

"I didn't know you were in here!" came Kili's outraged and (somewhat amusingly) high-pitched response.

Grumbling, I snatched up my trousers and tunic from the floor, marched over to the door and slammed it loudly into Kili's back, caring little for leg wounds and status.

"Give me a minute!" I shouted through, quickly tugging on the trousers and throwing the old tunic over the top. "Now you can come in," I added, raking my fingers through my wet hair.

The door opened again and a sheepish Kili limped in, his brother following close behind. They looked firstly from a damp me, to the pool of water on the floor and to the filthy bowl of water on the side.

"Just making use of the facilities," I added, not that an explanation was needed. I snatched up the basin and, taking it to the window, threw it out into the canal below.

The lads seemed to accept that readily enough; whatever they had been talking about before was too intense a conversation to leave hanging. Neither however seemed to be too bothered by my presence, so I remained, sat as close as I could get to the fire without setting myself alight.

"Uncle would understand," Fili repeated from before. He kept his voice low, but not necessarily low enough for me not to hear. I pretended to ignore them, watching the weak flames instead.

"He won't," came his brother's sharp reply.

"Just show Oin your leg. He'd have something for it, I bet."

"I don't want to bother him-"

"Please, Kee. Do it for me."

"Just leave it. Stop fussing."

From somewhere behind me, Fili sighed: "What would Mam say?" he said, in a tone that suggested some regret at resorting to emotional blackmail.

Low blow, I thought, catching Kili's sharp intake of breath. Perhaps I had misjudged the Durin brothers' arrival - this was actually quite entertaining. I was just starting to enjoy myself a little too much.

"Don't go there," Kili retorted in a dangerous voice.

Deciding it was time for an intervention (or, at the very least, time to stretch my legs), I stood up and turned to face the brothers, startling them both. Perhaps they had forgotten me sat beside the fire. Fili was on his feet too, arms folded, but Kili was resting on the edge of the bed. Fili was right in one respect: Kili looked in need of a medic, even I, the least experienced medical apprentice ever, could see that. His fringe clung in damp strands to a clammy forehead and his eyes were glassy. The only colour to his face seemed to be a greenish tinge to his cheeks. I reached for the now empty wash basin and dumped it beside Kili's feet - just, you know, in case it was needed.

"I hate to say it, but your brother may have a point," I said, causing the younger dwarf to groan loudly. "You look awful."

"I just need to sleep," came his grumpy response.

I caught Fili's eye - for all my willingness to conclude that Kili was being an over-grown dwarfling and was just coming down with an ague, he did genuinely look concerned. With a sigh, I folded my arms.

"You better get some sleep then," I said, sweetly. "You hardly want to trip over tomorrow and wake the dragon up, would you?"

Kili's eyes narrowed at that; I watched, amused, as a pillow was flung half-heartedly from the bed, only to land ineffectively at my feet.

"That's enough," Fili said, holding up his hand. Spoilsport. "Try and get some sleep," he added, to his younger brother, who was still watching me through his fringe with a reproachful look. "I'll get Oin to check on you in the morning." He went to touch his brother's shoulder only for Kili to roll himself, bad-temperedly, away, crying out when he shifted his injured leg too suddenly.

"Sweet dreams," I called out to him, throwing the pillow back at him as his brother began to fuss once more over him.

As Fili closed the bedchamber door behind us, leaving a now-pacified Kili to his beauty sleep, he suddenly took me by the arm to my surprise and pulled me to one side.

"You think he's getting worse?" he asked, lowering his voice as one of the Master's servants passed. He was still clutching my arm, I noted.

"His temper's hardly getting better," I said. "Nor's his balance either."

"You don't think the Orc arrow could have been poisoned? He never gets sick like this usually. I don't even remember the last time he was like this."

I shrugged and Fili released my arm, not that I was minding his grip too much.

"I don't know much about Orcs, but I hardly expect they keep their weapons clean and pristine. Poison? Seems risky. Could backfire. Bit of rust maybe?" I said, turning to face the window where yet more snow was beginning to fall. "Although, he could've just swallowed too much of the canal water. That can hardly do even the healthiest dwarf any good."

Fili snorted at that at least, although there was little humour in the noise. Rather his attention too turned for the window, but his eyes weren't for the icy canal below. They were aimed at something much larger and much further away.

"Tomorrow," I whispered, as his eyes rose instinctively for the faint outline of the mountain.

"Tomorrow," he replied.

"Better make the most of tonight then," I said, in a fake, bright voice that surprised even me. I gestured towards the stairs and to where the sounds of revelry were rising up from the Master's dining room. "If all the food's gone, there'll be trouble," I added, as a dark after-thought.

"You better hurry. Most of it was gone the last I looked. Only the fish was still out."

I pulled a face and swore - it was still far too soon for me to contemplate anything with scales and fins.

"Please tell me there's still more wine?" I rolled my eyes as Fili took his turn to make a face. "Relax. I'll try not to break Nori's face this time." Emphasis on the word 'try'.

"I wasn't thinking about Nori's nose," the golden-haired dwarf said. "I was thinking about my belongings."

That again? Was my actions at Rivendell going to haunt me for the rest of this quest, if not my life? He had his goods back! And we were talking again! Although, I remembered then that our time cramped up together in the elvish cell had only been the night before. Somehow that conversation felt like it had happened a good deal longer ago.

"You can relax on that front: I don't think you have anything worth stealing on you," I said, raising an eyebrow. "That I know of anyway," I added, turning for the stairs. "You coming?" I added, with a quick look over my shoulder.

Fili shook his head.

"Someone had better watch Kili," he said, with a regretful shrug, nodding back towards the closed bedchamber door.

"Suit yourself," I turned back and called up after him. "More wine for me then."

Not that there was that much wine left. As I had been scrubbing off the remnants of a ridiculously long day, the other dwarves had made short work of the alcoholic bounty downstairs, helped by the red-faced Master himself and the assorted townspeople. Not that, as I soon came to realise, these guests were all the town's residents, but rather I learned, from their somewhat decent attire, the town's elite.

Already any promises to my moralistic friend were being pushed to the back of my mind; my fingers were already twitching with anticipation for what I might find.

I noticed one man in the crowd, an elderly figure, who had seemingly refused to remove his worn fur coat. The fact that he had such a coat made him a good deal wealthier than most of the rest of the town, yet I found nothing when I fished through his pockets other than dustballs and disappointment. This town really was a wretched place after all.

Annoyed, I turned to find what was left of the wine, but before I could even reach for a glass, I found myself being dragged into the room's middle space and, accompanied by the town's orchestra on their collection of damp instruments, thrown about the crowded space by an inebriated Bofur.

Steering him and his flammable breath away from a few open candles, I finally was able to remove myself from his grip, but only after almost breaking the bones in his left foot to do so. Leaving him yelping, I turned for the main table only to find the more dour members of the company were the ones seated still: Oakenshield and Balin were talking to the Master, obviously working out some agreement or another, as the wormy Alfrid hovered over them; Gloin was sat alone and despondent with the pictures of his family and a bottle of red; the hobbit was talking with Dori.

Turning away then from the table, I made my way instead back across the dance floor to where a crowd of townspeople and a few company members were gathering. A small table had been set up and a card game was ongoing with Nori, sat with his back to me and behind a large pile of coins, dealing.

One of the Master's servants too was hovering by the crowd and was not too pleased when I caught his attention. I was less pleased when he made a real scene of bending over to listen to me; I might have been a dwarf, but I wasn't that small. He was however quick enough with bringing me a bottle of wine and so I kept my comments under my breath at least until I had taken a swig of it. Spluttering, I soon spat it all out again, managing to get not only the rug, but the legs of the townspeople in front of me. Even the wine here, I realised, spluttering still and ignoring the indignant cries of those before me, tasted like fish.

Denied riches, entertainment and even alcohol, I pushed my way through the crowd and took a place behind Nori at the card table. He was playing against a few of the townspeople, two guards, one of whom I recognised as my friend from earlier, and, to my surprise, Ori. Having sensed me hovering around behind him, a wine bottle still in my hand, my old comrade dropped his cards down onto the table and began scooping up his winnings.

"Don't move on my behalf," I said, with a sweet smile for the other players, who only looked baffled. Only Ori knew the reason behind Nori's sudden haste to leave. "Stay. I only want to watch."

Grumbling, Nori did return to his seat and to dealing. His friends too returned their attention to the game at hand, all but one of them. Still smiling pleasantly, I caught Ori's eye and, with a discreet number of hand gestures, signalled the contents of Nori's cards to him.

If anyone noticed, they didn't complain. At least, right away. Leaving them and their spectators to the game, my grin only widened as I soon heard Nori's incredulous cries and cheering and laughter from the others. Game, set and match. That was nearly as satisfying as breaking his nose.

On a bench against the wall, a group of local girls had appeared, talking among themselves, but for the most part just looking bored. They did not look much older than the bargeman's daughters, even if they all looked better dressed and better fed. Most of them seemed indifferent to the dwarf guests being hosted that evening, but some seemed curious. I caught a few of the older girls eyeing our company's leader from afar, but they had a better chance with the bowl of lampreys than with the dwarf king.

There was one girl who caught my attention. Taller than the others, it was not her height that drew my eye, but her hair; curl after curl of red gold hair falling down her shoulders. She must have sensed me staring - or had been warned by her friends - as she turned and caught my eye. Rather than telling me where to get off - as any self-respecting Gorge regular would have done - she only smiled at me before leaving her friends to their giggling and walking over to where I stood.

"I like your beard," she said, as a way of greeting. Direct then as well as tall. She all but towered over me.

"Thanks," I replied, dryly. "I grew it myself." I went to take a nonchalant drink from the wine bottle only to recall its taste. Putting it down and out of harm's way, I turned back to the human girl.

"Do all dwarves have beards?" she continued.

"Only the best," I said, my thoughts drifting to Kili asleep upstairs.

"Well, I like yours," she said, reaching out to stroke mine. This was getting a little much for me. I liked compliments like the next dwarf, but being petted was not too enjoyable.

"Watch it," I said, only half-joking. "I bite."

"So do I," came her saucy reply.

Her name, I soon came to learn, was Brenna, she was eighteen, and the only daughter of the captain of the guard. She claimed the bottle I had left aside and didn't seem to mind the fishy after-taste so much, ranting on as she was about her father and his misdoings.

"Sounds rough," I said, although not feeling a great deal of sympathy for her troubles. For all his wrongs against her, he had not dragged her through the town at the head of a bloodthirsty mob. Setting bedtimes for her hardly seemed to be the end the world.

She nodded and took a further glug from the bottle, oblivious to the sarcasm in my voice.

"What's your name?" she asked, once she had reemerged from the bottle's contents.

"Nithi."

"Nifty?" Well, that certainly was a new one.

"No, Nithi," I repeated, with a level of patience that surprised me.

"How old are you?" Direct again.

"Ninety." Or near enough.

Brenna let out a low whistle. I forgot sometimes how the life expectancy of men compared to that of dwarves.

"My great-grandma isn't even ninety," she said, incredulous.

It was then that I decided to reclaim the bottle from the younger girl, fishy taste or not. My last night before facing the dragon and the mountain was hardly turning out as well as I had hoped and I was beginning to envy Fili playing nurse upstairs. Anything to get away from this miserable party.

"Dance with me," Brenna said, all of a sudden.

"Excuse me?"

"Come on! I love this song!" The town orchestra were playing the same tuneless six-piece song they had been murdering all evening. Having drained half of the vintage in a short space of time, perhaps Brenna was hearing things. She stared down at me eagerly, eyes bright under her mane of red hair.

"I don't dance," I said, raising the bottle to my lips.

"Well, I do," she said, snatching the bottle before I could even have a drop and steering me onto the dance floor.

For a girl who had just drunk what had to be half her weight in wine, she wasn't too much of a bad dancer. She at least put Bofur to shame, although that was hardly too difficult. The last I had seen of the dwarf had been the tip of his hat poking out from under a table. Oin had deemed his foot not to be broken, so I had kept my promise there.

For all her skills however, we must have looked a sight: the tipsy human girl in her evening best and a scruffy, sadly sober dwarf, who just about reached her chest. But, as I was growing increasingly aware, this was the look Brenna was hoping to achieve.

"Is he watching?" she said, staring at something over my head.

"Who's watching?" I looked over my shoulder only to catch sight of a table of guards in full view of our little dance. "Ah, your dad?"

She only nodded, still looking stonily ahead.

"You know, if you're trying to make him mad and all, you're doing it all wrong," I said, as she spun me around a few more times. "I'm a lady dwarf, you know." That stopped her in her tracks. Shame really - I was beginning to enjoy her attention, even if it was just a ruse to wind up her father.

"But you have a beard?!" Again she had to have another stroke of my beard, no matter how aghast she was. "Not that it matters," she added, quickly, as I pushed her hand away from my face. "Do all lady dwarves have beards?"

"As I said, only the best."

"So the one with the limp. She's-?"

"She's experimenting with shaving," I said, quickly.

Brenna had to have a moment to digest this, although perhaps she was struggling to digest something else. I had been around drunk people, whether dwarf or human, enough times to spot the signs. The sudden pallor, the sudden sheen.

"Make way. Coming through. We have a hurler," I shouted out, this time being the one to steer her across the dance floor and out through a side door onto the Master's balcony.

She just made it in time to the edge. I was too short to be of much use, holding her hair back and the like, so I just kept out of the firing line and gave her an awkward pat on the back when she had finished.

"You'll get used to it," I said, as she finally turned around and sunk down against the balcony's edge.

She only nodded, watching me blearily through half-closed eyes.

"You look really pretty tonight," she said, her words beginning to slur. This at least seemed to be for my own benefit; no one else was mad enough to be out on the balcony with ice on the canal and a frosty mist hanging over the town.

"Thanks," I said, awkwardly, unsure of how I had ended up in this position. "Let's get you inside." 

Taking her hand, I tried to pull her up to her feet, but it was hardly as if Brenna was in much of a position to help. She just remained sat, sprawled out on the floor, oblivious to the temperature and happy to keep blathering on.

"Again, thanks." I was beginning to lose patience. "Inside, now!"

"I wish you didn't have to- have to go up- there tomorrow," she said. "There's- there's a dragon up there."

"Like I didn't know that. Up!"

She managed to make it to her knees before sprawling forward and taking me down with her. With her weight pinning me down, I was unable to escape the sudden gust of vomit breath as she leaned down and pressed her lips onto mine.

I wasn't one to be too adverse to a bit of flirtation, especially from pretty people, but I just couldn't abide this. With a loud cry, Brenna managed to sit herself back up quickly, her lip bloody from where I had just bitten down on it. Suddenly free, I managed to crawl myself out from under her, spluttering all the while.

"Why?" she half-shouted, half-sobbed, clutching her lip and swaying.

Climbing to my feet, I turned on her.

"Inside now," I snapped, only to catch the girl's name being called from somewhere within the crowded dining room.

Brenna caught it too. Sat in her little drunken heap, she burst into a flood of tears.

"My mum," she bawled. "She can't see me like this. She'll be so mad."

With a prayer pleading for patience, I held out my hand for her to take and somehow pulled her back to her feet and into the hall. Finding a table close to the door, I pulled the bench out only to find an unconscious Bofur beneath it. With my boot, I managed to roll him further under the table and planted Brenna down on the seat in his place.

"Drink this," I told her, handing her a jug of water, "and eat this." I passed her a relatively untouched loaf of bread from the table, having pocketed half of it for myself later. "When your mum comes, say you took ill. Probably something you ate." The girl nodded dumbly. "One more thing." With a sigh, I wiped the bloody spittle from her chin. "Night."

Leaving her to her oncoming hangover, I vowed to end the night there. For all my vows to feast and drink that night away, the party had hardly ended as expected. Rather I'd be going to bed alone, stone-cold sober, with only half a loaf of bread to sustain me and maybe some dregs of wine to wash Brenna's taste from my mouth.

Having reached the top of the Master's stairs, I took one final look out at the party below. Already it seemed to be drawing to a close. Oakenshield and Balin had retired; the Master was snoring with his face pressed against the table; the townspeople were beginning to file out; and Brenna was being supported out of the hall by an enraged older woman who I supposed to be her mother. It seemed her story of a stomach upset had fallen through after all.

Oakenshield and Balin had taken one of the guest rooms along with Dwalin. The other one too seemed to be taken if the snoring coming from it had anything to go by. That left the smallest and grubbiest one for me and for the Durin brothers already inside it.

Poking my head around the door, I found the room already pitch-black, all but for the remnants of the fire still burning in the grate. Two figures were curled up in the bed; I guessed them to be the Durins, even if I couldn't make out which one was which. I did however manage to locate Ori, curled up as he was on the floor and hidden under a dark cloak.

"What the- Oh, sorry, Ori," I said, having stepped on something soft and squeaky. He murmured something and then settled back down.

Beside the dying fire, I fashioned a little nest from a borrowed cloak and a blanket I had found outside. Comfortable as I was, having eaten the half loaf after burrowing into my nest, I found sleep unwilling to come. I counted sheep. I counted coins. I tried to imagine Oin rabbiting on about some herb or another, but still... nothing. Rather I found myself sat up and watching the few remaining embers in the fireplace, listening all the while to the unsteady breathing of the other three in the room, all of us pretending to sleep and waiting for the morning to come.

Sleep must have come at some point, because, before I knew it, Ori was gently prodding me on the shoulder and telling me to wake up. Bleary-eyed, I sat up, only to be greeted to the refreshing sound of Kili throwing up into the wash basin. Good morning then.

Down the stairs, a small breakfast had been laid out - far more modest than last night's affair. I managed an egg and some bread, but then couldn't face the thought of more food. My stomach was already beginning to clench and I wondered if I would need to borrow the washbasin off of Kili.

My mood wasn't improved further when I bumped into a smirking Nori on my way back up to the guest room.

"Morning, Nee," he said. "Good night?"

"Better than yours, I hope."

"Where's your sweetheart then?"

"My- what? Have you been on the canal water again, you old sot?"

"Your sweetheart," the fool repeated himself. "The pretty lass with the red curls. Never knew you were one for redheads," he added, clapping me on the shoulder.

Brenna, of course. Groaning aloud, I pushed Nori roughly aside only to walk straight into the arms of Fili.

"Sweetheart?" he asked, looking confused. Disentangling myself from him, I groaned aloud again, relieved only that he wasn't out emptying the basin this time.

"Mind your own business!" I shouted out over my shoulder as I stalked past them, slamming the guest room door behind me.

The Master had once more been generous enough to provide us with clean clothes, even if these clothes were old city guard uniforms and much too big for us. While I had been struggling through breakfast below, the Durin brothers (and Ori, presumably) had already helped themselves to the pile of gear left on the bed. I managed to find a serviceable enough tunic, some rusty plates of armour, a faded red cloak, and a dented but otherwise intact helmet. Trousers however were another story; it looked like my fishy pair from before would just have to do.

I hadn't spotted it during the night, but the room had a looking glass to one side. Ignoring the shouts and calls from the corridor to hurry up, I took a moment to stare at my reflection, trying on the helmet one way and then another. Either way I still looked like I was wearing a large onion on my head. Casting it to one side, I gave myself one more brush down and then followed the others outside.

As with last night, it seemed as if the whole town had come out to see us off - or, well, the whole town, except for the bargeman and his family. I peeked around for them as best as I could, more out of curiosity than concern, but then Oakenshield was shouting me over and dumping a pile of swords into my arms to carry onto the small barge.

Unlike Kili, I managed to do this without throwing everything everywhere and I would've given the dwarf some snarky comment had his uncle not pulled him over.

"Not you," he said, holding Kili off from joining the rest of us, standing as we were on the boat. "We must travel with speed; you will slow us down."

Even I thought that was harsh on Kili. The younger dwarf, pale as he was, even paler than the day before, only smiled at his uncle, expecting him to be joking around. As if Oakenshield ever joked.

"What are you talking about? I'm coming with you."

"No," Oakenshield said, firmly.

This was getting uncomfortable; every pair of eyes in the boat were now on the uncle and nephew. Beside me, I noticed Fili stiffening.

"I'm going to be there when that door is opened. When we first look upon the halls of our fathers, Thorin." Even sickened, Kili would not give in so easily.

"Kili, stay here. Rest. Join us when you're healed." Oakenshield's tone softened, his hand resting on his nephew's shoulder. But even with a kindly voice, the news was hard on the younger dwarf. Kili turned back for the pier, just as Oakenshield went to climb into the boat.

"I'll stay with the lad," Oin announced, climbing out of the boat and heading towards Kili. "My duty lies with the wounded. Nithi, bring my things."

Apprentice time then. I managed to locate Oin's medicine box easily enough: a new one kindly donated by the people of Laketown, under his flattened earhorn. Why he had kept the useless thing was beyond me, but a sudden idea was coming to mind.

"Should I stay with Oin and Kili?" I suggested, holding up the horn. "I mean, if Oin needs help and all." Oin seemed to be too busy fussing over Kili to rebuke my suggestion. I looked hopefully between Balin and Oakenshield.

Oakenshield only sighed and turned away; just enough assent to tell me I was off the hook and free from dragon duty. Clambering off the boat with the box, I stopped only as I felt a hand reach out and grab my shoulder.

"Keep safe, lass." It was Balin. For all my excitement at getting to avoid the dragon, I had forgotten for a moment just that the others were going instead. I felt a sudden stab of worry for the kindly old dwarf - and, Mahal, I had to admit it, for the others.

"You too," I said, patting the hand on my shoulder. "All of you, keep safe." The other dwarves over Balin's shoulder all nodded awkwardly; all but Fili, who took a step towards Oakenshield.

"Uncle, we grew up on tales of the mountain," he said, earnestly. "Tales you told us. You can't take that away from him!"

"Fili," Oakenshield only sighed.

"I will carry him if I must!"

"One day you will be king and you will understand. I cannot risk the fate of this quest for the sake of one dwarf, not even my own kin."

Looking from his uncle to his brother, Fili didn't need long to make up his mind. Angrily, he went to climb out of the boat, but was stopped by his uncle.

"Fili, don't be a fool," Oakenshield said. "You belong with the Company."

"I belong with my brother," was all Fili had to say on the matter, turning his back on his uncle and the rest of the Company and stalking past me to where his brother stood, supported against Oin.

Wishing to escape the awkward atmosphere that now hung over the boat, I backed away, clutching Oin's box to my chest.

"Good luck," I said. "Don't do anything I wouldn't."

Before anyone could respond, the town orchestra - all looking a little worse for wear from last night - started up and the Master took to his platform above us. I used the distraction of this to slip away up the dock to where the others stood. Fili's eyes were only for his brother, but Kili only stared moodily out, watching the other company members climb into the boat and prepare to leave.

The Master was saying some words of farewell to the assembled crowd, but I only ignored him; watching, with a sudden unexpected lump in my throat, as the company set off with their provisions, all waves and smiles for the assembled townspeople. I had not expected to feel so choked up at watching the others leave, rather I should have felt sheer relief at not being with them and having instead the relatively easy job of looking after Kili. But I had come to know these folks well over our months of travel and over our various misadventures. They weren't all necessarily my friends, but they certainly weren't strangers either. For the most part, they still drove me mad: with their penchant for trouble, snoring, eating all the good stuff before me, and just generally being around me constantly, but I would miss them; all of them. Except perhaps Nori. His 'sweetheart' jibe had really rubbed me up the wrong way that morning.

As the others slowly made their way down the canal to the cheers of the crowds, Bofur suddenly appeared beside us, breathless, hungover, and clutching his hat to his head. To my shame, I hadn't even realised he had not been on the departing boat. You would have thought I would have noticed the missing hat. Come to think of it... I recalled where I had last seen him the night before. No wonder I had something soft to rest my feet on at breakfast.

"Ah! So you missed the boat as well?" he said, his anguish at so narrowly missing the boat turning to relief when he spotted us.

A wave of old fishy wine smell hit me and I gagged.

"You stink!" I said, pulling Bofur out of the way of the townspeople, who were now all heading back to their daily routines, ignorant to the dwarves beneath them. "Did you drink the wine last night or bathe in it?"

Before he could respond, Kili cried out and fell forward, sinking into a faint.

"Kili? Kili!" Fili managed to grab him in time, struggling to hold his brother up. Beside him, Oin was fumbling at his wrist, fumbling for a pulse.

All amusement at Bofur's predicament fell away quickly then. I watched, my stomach sinking, as Kili's head lolled forward; no longer the laughing, joking dwarf of before, he seemed now to be more of a large ragdoll with half of its stuffing missing. Perhaps looking after him wasn't going to be such an easy job after all.

"Come on," I said, taking his other side as Oin continued to measure his pulse. "Let's take him back to the Master's."

Yet we soon came to find that we were no longer welcome guests at the Master's house. Having seen the others off, the Master had soon retired back to his abode to nurse his hangover, leaving us hammering on his door for a good ten minutes before he had Alfrid open it.

"What are you doing here?" he sneered, looking down on us. "Why aren't you on the boat?"

"Our friend's sick," Bofur said, gesturing to Kili who, whilst awake now, was still propped up between me and his brother. "We need somewhere to look after him. Some medicine. Some water."

"Who is it?" The Master called out from somewhere within the house. "Tell them to go away."

"Dwarves, sire," Alfrid replied.

"Why aren't they on the boat?"

"One of them is sick, apparently."

"Tough luck then! No gold, no help."

"Sorry," Alfrid then sneered, sounding anything but sorry. "You'll just have to find someplace else."

He went to close the door, but I was quicker. Slipping out from under Kili's shoulder, I barged forward, hoping to force the door open a little while longer, but the manservant was quicker, kicking me back into Fili and the others with the heel of his boat. He slammed the door behind him and drew the bolt down.

"Damn it," I cried, once the winded feeling had subsided. I stood up, rubbing my chest and turning to the others.

"We could try Bard's," Bofur suggested.

"The bargeman? After yesterday?" I said. "Hardly likely." My thoughts turned to the other residents of Laketown; the ones we had met the night before. An idea was beginning to form. "Wait here a moment. I think I have a plan."

Leaving the others to rest awhile beside the Master's house, I doubled back alone and made my way to where I remembered the armoury to be. It wasn't too hard to find considering we had been marched from it to the Master's house, but it wasn't the weapons I was after. Rather it was the house beside it.

Ramming my fist against the door, it wasn't long before answer came in the form of a woman.

"Is Brenna in?" I asked, before the woman could even get a word in edgeways.

"Brenna is indisposed," her mother said, coolly. "And no thanks to you," she added, scowling down at me from her superior height.

This was not going as well as I had hoped.

"Listen, my friend is ill. He needs help soon otherwise he'll..." That wasn't an outcome I was ready to face yet. Instead I gave the hard-faced woman what I hoped was a sincere enough look of pleading. "I promise we won't be any trouble. We just need a place to stay until he gets better."

"I will not have your lot in my house," the woman retorted. She snatched up something from beside the door. "Liars and thieves, the lot of you!" She then went at me with a broom, swiping furiously in my direction. I managed to avoid the worst of it, jumping back, but only to almost fall back into the canal. Spitting some curses at her in Khuzdul, I backed off, throwing a few obscene gestures as I did. Stupid human.

The noise from below had brought Brenna at least to her window on the upper storey of the house. Pale and bleary-eyed, she stared down at me, as if trying to put my face to memory.

"Brenna, it's me, Nithi," I cried up. "You got help us. My friend... he needs help. Stop it!" I roared again, as Brenna's mother made yet another attempt to concuss me.

Brenna seemed to be listening, but whether she recognised me was beyond the point. Coolly, leaving me shouting out down before, she closed her window shutters and withdrew back inside.

"Damn you all," I spat out, kicking the wooden side of her house, before running off back towards the others.

"Any luck?" Bofur was the first to spot me. He jumped up from where he had been perching on an empty barrel. Kili was still awake, but he seemed to be struggling to stay so, sat on the floor as he was, leaning against his brother.

"What do you think?" I said, glumly removing several broom twigs from my hair. "Looks like we'll have to go to the bargeman after all."

As with the rest of the town, the bargeman was not the least bit pleased to see us standing outside his door.

"No," he exclaimed. "I'm done with dwarves. Go away!" He went to shut the door, but Bofur managed to step in the way.

"No, no, no! Please," he said. "No one will help us. Kili's sick. He's very sick." He stepped back just enough to show the man Kili propped up between his brother and me and looking somehow, if it was possible, even more sickly than before.

"I-" The bargeman at least was speechless then. He looked from Kili to Fili to me and then to Oin and Bofur.

"Where's your leader?" he asked, finally. "Where's your king?"

"He's gone," I answered for the others. "With the rest of the company. It's just us now."

The bargeman considered that, looking once more around at each of us.

"You can stay," he said, stepping back to let us through, "but, mind you, for one night only. I want you out by the morning."

"Who is it, Da?" The bargeman's older daughter came to an abrupt stop as she saw us. "What's going on now, Da."

"Put some water on, Sigrid. Make some tea," the bargeman said, his voice softening as he turned to his daughters. "And, Tilda, fetch some blankets. We have a long night ahead of us."


	15. In Sickness and in Stealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having taken that blasted arrow to the knee, Kili has to rethink his future as an adventurer.

There was no way I could have fallen asleep. Not when I had spent the last few hours keeping Kili's hair free from his sick bowl and fetching this bit and that thing for Oin. There was no way I had the time to sleep, let alone the right frame of mind. Yet, before I knew any better, Bofur was shaking me roughly awake by the shoulder and pressing a mug of the bargeman's daughter's weak broth into my confused hands.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," he said, as I started awake, having found myself curled up on a spare chair and under a blanket.

"What- what time is it?" I groaned, struggling to remember just how I had ended up here.

"Sun's nearly set," the other dwarf said, fiddling as ever with his hat, before adding: "The last light of Durin's Day." He nodded to the window where, sure enough, the sky outside was just starting to grow dark.

"Happy Durin's Day then," I grumbled. "You reckon they made it in time?" Rubbing my eyes, I sat up and freed myself from where I had got caught in the blanket.

"Who knows? As long as they don't forget about us lot down here."

He still seemed peeved then about being left behind, even with all the worry about Kili. Looking past him, I spotted the bargeman's bed in the corner and Fili's golden head bent over it still; Oin having left then, probably to fetch some more water without Bofur and I on hand to help him. The bargeman and his children were not too far off from the makeshift infirmary- not that their house had the room otherwise. His daughters were cooking dinner: yet more broth if my nose wasn't mistaken. His son was fixing something or another on the kitchen table alongside the bargeman, who, every now and again, would look up from his work and frown at the scene in the corner.

"How's he doing?" I lowered my voice, conscious of the others in the room and the lack of space between us.

"He's no longer vomiting, but..." This was where Bofur decided to lower his own voice, leaning his head in closer. "Oin reckons his fever's on the rise. Unless... Unless we can bring it down soon... It... it won't be so good."

_ Mahal, no,  _ I thought, turning away from Bofur and watching the bed-bound figure toss and turn, groaning still as he had done all that afternoon.

"Does Oin have anything for that?" Just as I was asking, the Company's medic reappeared, pulling the bargeman to one side and saying something in a low voice to him. Whatever he had said got the bargeman up and off looking for something. The medic then returned to his patient's bed and began again the process of wetting his forehead with a cloth.

Setting aside the blanket and leaving Bofur to his own mug of broth, I left my corner and returned back to my old position at the bedside beside Fili. He barely looked up; his gaze fixed still on his sick brother's face. Oin however noted my reappearance.

"Awake now, are you?" he said, before handing me the water bowl and cloth. It seemed as if I was back on nurse duty, if not completely forgiven for dozing off at such a crucial time.

Even through the damp cloth, Kili's skin felt like it was on fire. Just to be sure I left the cloth in the bowl and pressed my own hand against his forehead; I may as well have stuck it into the cauldron of broth. With his face as red as it was and a sheen of sweat clinging to it, it seemed Oin was right about the fever. We could only pray that he had the skill and equipment to bring it down.

Groaning and writhing, shivering and burning, Kili was oblivious to the rest of us around him. He was mumbling something, something low and under his breath. Something about...

"Starlight?" I whispered, confused.  _ What had starlight to do with any of this? _

"Can you not do something?" Ignoring this, Fili turned to Oin, his voice pained.

"I need herbs!" The healer replied. "Something to bring down his fever."

Whilst the Master had been kind enough (when we still had Oakenshield with us) to provide us with medical equipment, this medical equipment was found to comprise only of bandages and a bottle of burn ointment. Things that would have been useful if we too were at the mountain and if we too would be facing a dragon. Bandages were rather proving to be an ineffective enough treatment for a poisoned leg wound and a deadly fever.

Kili's wounded leg- the cause of all this strife- had long since been revealed to the air. In his haste to avoid causing any fuss (or, perhaps, to avoid his uncle's attention and being left behind), Kili had resisted showing the wound to Oin for as long as possible, until the healer had unwound his dressing at the bargeman's house and found the flesh around the wound to be half-rotten and oozing pus. If it wasn't obvious by then that the poison had spread, the younger dwarf could have lost his leg. Now, he only risked losing his life.

"I have nightshade, feverfew," the bargeman said, coming over with his own medical supplies. He read the names off of a few more bottles, but Oin only shook his head.

"They're no use to me. Do you have any Kingsfoil?"

"No." The bargeman seemed surprised at the request. "It's a weed. We feed it to the pigs."

Beside us, Bofur suddenly looked up, the clogs in his brain audibly whirring around. Likely dusting themselves off.

"Pigs? Weed?" Two subjects he seemed to know much about. "Right!" He turned and pointed at Kili, groaning still on the bed. "Don't move!"

I would have argued that point, mostly as Kili was in no fit state to be going anywhere, but Bofur was already out of the door. Hopefully he would come across some of the pig's weed on his journeys, but I was hardly holding my breath.

"You reckon there's much going on under that hat of his?" I said, but the other two dwarves didn't respond and, even if Kili wanted to, he couldn't. Feeling somewhat awkward after that, I returned to my task of bathing Kili's forehead.

Just as we began to fall into some form of routine, waiting on Bofur for the much needed herbs, all hell broke loose. Without warning, the house around us began to shake, showering us all in a layer of dust from its rafters. Looking up, I saw my own confusion and shock reflected in both Oin's and Fili's faces, and then in the faces of the bargeman's family.

"Da?" His older daughter cried.

"It's coming from the mountain!" His lad piped up from beside the window.  _ The mountain? _ Horrified, I turned from the children to Fili.  _ If such a racket was coming from there then... _

"They made it," I whispered. "They made it into the mountain." And likely had woken up the beast that dwelled inside it.

Fili had come to the same realisation. Leaving his brother's side for the first time that day, he crossed the room to where the bargeman stood before his children.

"You should leave us," he said, earnestly. "Take your children; get out of here. Oin, Nithi," he added, looking back to us over his shoulder. "You too, if you want, get away from here."

I opened my mouth to protest- not that I in anyway wanted to stay anywhere even remotely close to that mountain, but I hardly could leave the brothers now, could I?- but the bargeman beat me to it.

"And go where?" he said, summing up just how bad our situation was. "There is nowhere to go."

"Are we going to die, Da?" The youngest girl exclaimed. Beside me, Oin only sighed.

"No, darling," the bargeman went to reassure her.

"The dragon. It's going to kill us."

"What should we do?" I lowered my voice and turned to Oin. Something about an awakened dragon had really improved his hearing and his flattened ear horn sat unused to one side.

"What can we do?" he sighed.

"Shove him-" I nodded to Kili. "- in a boat, and the kids too, perhaps. Make for-" I mulled it over. The bargeman was right: there was nowhere to go. "Make for Mirkwood, I guess. If we stay to the forest edge, we should be able to avoid spiders and elves or whatever. The dragon might not come that far."

The healer only shook his head.

"Without Bofur and without the kingsfoil?" he said. "The lad wouldn't last the journey out of town, let alone back to the forest, with a fever that high."

"He'll hardly last with a dragon incoming," I retorted.

We both turned back to our patient, still alive and still lucid enough to look between us, even if he was unable to make out our whispered conversation. With his round glassy eyes fixed on mine, I felt a sudden sharp stab of guilt- a feeling that didn't come too often for me, but seemed to only be increasing by the bucketload with the addition of the Durin brothers to my life. I had downplayed Kili's wound, been angry at him for getting us caught by the guard, and had then teased him and shoved him through doorways. That hardly could have helped; not that I had ever expected in a million lifetimes for him to become just this ill. I looked back up at Oin.

"What can we do?" I asked, less a resigned sigh and more an actual question.

"Keep him cool," he answered. "Keep his thirst down. Pray that Bofur will hurry back soon."

Nodding, I caught Fili's eye just as he returned to his brother's side. Behind him, the bargeman was messing with something overhead, yanking something off of the ceiling- some black twisted metal of sort.

"Not if I kill it first," he exclaimed, with some sort of unexpected bravado, before he and his lad hurried out of the house, leaving his two daughters to comfort one another in the kitchen.

"What was that about?"

"He must be Girion's heir after all," said Oin, staring after him. It took me a moment to remember just where I had heard that name before.

"He has one of those arrows still? He'll shoot the beast?!"

"If luck's with him." We both turned to find Fili watching us, with a weary sense of apathy to his voice. Worn out though he was, his concern for his brother seemed to be the only thing pushing him through the weariness; it seemed to rob him of any fear the news of the dragon might have otherwise evoked. He held out his hand to me and silently I passed him the bowl and cloth, leaving him to bathe his brother's face alone.

_Damn it, Bofur_ , I thought, walking over to the window and staring out into the darkened street beside the bargeman's house. How badly I wanted then just to catch a glimpse of him, of his silly hat. Anything just to feel that we were doing something. The resignation in Fili's words, his willingness to remain with his brother in the face of a dragon attack, had shaken me more than what I was willing to admit. _Luck and time_ , I thought, staring up in the direction of the mountain, _two things that_ _were running out_.

A tug on my sleeve caught my attention. Whirling around, I recognised the bargeman's younger daughter at my side. Even though she was still but a child, she was nearly my height and if that wasn't disconcerting enough, she was clinging onto my arm.

"Your friends," she said. "They'll kill it before it gets here?"

I realised then that she had not seen them leave. The whole town had been out on the canal side, but for the bargeman and his family. She would not have seen them all in their armour and with their weapons, heading for the mountain. Even with all the show, they still were only nine dwarves and a hobbit up against a dragon.

I couldn't share my doubts with her, no matter how much the my cynicism wanted to. Keeping her gaze, I lied easily: "Of course they will. They've fought far worse things."

There was some truth to that at least: I couldn't imagine many worse things to fight than wargs and orcs.  _ One dragon could not be as bad as an army of those beasts. Then again though, wargs and orcs could not breath fire... _

Before I could get any further carried away, the door opened and the bargeman's son entered, breathless and clutching his father's black arrow. His father was nowhere in sight.

"The Master's men were after him," he explained, his younger sister having quickly left me to get to her brother's side. He sat down heavily at the table, the large arrow still in his hand. "He weren't far behind me."

His older sister left him to it. Stepping outside, we could hear her calling out for her father, not that he could so easily return what with the local law enforcement after him. Groaning, I too went to take a seat with the children, wondering then just if this evening could get any worse.

It did.

First there was a loud creaking overhead; the kind that made you wonder if the roof was about to cave in. I looked up as yet more dust came falling down, only to start when the bargeman's older girl began to scream from outside. Jumping back up to my feet, I watched as the girl backed into the house, screaming all the while, trying to close the door behind her only for it to be blocked by something. A long blade that looked horrifyingly familiar.

The door flung open and an orc, growling and filthy, stalked in. They had found us. It had taken them a day, a night, and another day, but the horde had finally tracked us down, weakened and weaponless, to the bargeman's house. The plates of armour that the Master had lent to us had long since been removed and left to the back of the house. We were screwed.

Not that we had any intention to go down without a fight. Without any hesitation, Oin flung a stack of plates at it, dazing the thing. Before I could grab the bargeman's daughter (she being frozen to the spot with fear at this point) and tug her back, another orc came crashing in- this time through the ceiling and landing almost on top of me. Spluttering and coughing from the dust, I just about grabbed the girl's arm as the first orc went for her, but then a gold blur was rushing past us. Fili, armed with nothing but his fists (and likely his head), had launched himself straight into the orc, grappling with it as the girl and I backed away.

Hollering still, the girl stumbled back and- having almost dragged me along with her- rolled under the table. Left standing and facing down an incoming foe alone, I grabbed the nearest thing to me- thankfully, a bowl of broth- and flung the hot meal straight into the ungrateful orc's face. He roared, clutching his face, just as the first orc booted Fili halfway across the room.

He rounded onto me then, this big ugly grey thing. He went to raise his blade, but I had something else for him. The frying pan hit him first in the chest and, as he doubled up, caught him next hard in the face. Stunned, he sank to his knees. Before though I could get too cocky (or, well, more cocky than usual), more orcs were falling through the ceiling. One landed behind me on the table and caught a handful of my hair in his fist.

Shouting out in pain, I shook my head desperately left to right, swinging the pan uselessly against his side, as the beast raised his blade. Before his blow could fall though, a loud crash sounded out and a whole shower of splinters fell over us. The orc dropped down behind me and I was able to spin around, suddenly freed.

"Thanks," I just about managed to choke out to Fili, who was still clutching the stool's broken seat.

He only nodded in reply, having not spotted the orc coming up behind him. Before I could shout a warning, I found myself running straight, pan raised, at it. But I wasn't alone. Smacking him hard in the gut with pan, it was Fili who finished him off (and the remainder of the stool too), bringing the wood down hard over his head.

Breathless, I just about managed a hollow chuckle, before the bargeman's screaming daughters caught my attention. An orc was pulling over the table they were hiding beneath. Oin, nearer to them than us, threw himself in front of them, but, before we could reach them, another orc came crashing down.

Fili may have made it to them in time, but I certainly didn't. The orc swung his fist at me and caught me hard in the chest, sending me crashing painfully backwards into a set of shelves. Groaning amidst the broken pieces of wood, I could only clutch my side and wheeze as the foe advanced. Winded, again, but that was the least of my troubles. I tried to reach for the pan again with my spare hand, amongst the heap beneath me, but I just couldn't find it with my fingers alone. I could only watch as the orc made his way towards me, holding his blade aloft.

_ Why _ , I thought, as I stared death yet again in the face,  _ had I believed this evening couldn't get any worse? _

As if in answer, the orc stopped suddenly, a foot or so away from me, staring at something protruding from his chest. He groaned and fell forwards, revealing none other than an elf behind him, her own two knives raised. It took a moment of shock before I recognised just where I had seen that long red hair before.

"Mirkwood? What the- what are you doing- here?" I wheezed, as she pulled me back up to my feet by the front of my tunic. "You- still- have- my... sword!"

Ignoring me, she only turned and finished yet another orc off with the kind of expert precision that could only have taken a few hundred years of practice. In a good deal of pain and feeling a good deal bitter still over my sword and shield, I backed off as best as I could and left the she-elf and her fair-haired mate to it.  _ Bloody show-off elves,  _ I thought, as they made light work of the present orcs.

"Get down!" Across the room, Fili was shouting out. Unsure just who he was shouting to, I ducked, but his words weren't for me. Again I watched him rush forward and tackle- this time, the bargeman's son and out of the path of an orc's blade. It was however what I saw next that really caught my breath.

Kili, back up on his feet and hanging onto an orc for support, having first stabbed it with one of the she-elf's knives. Not that he stayed upright for long. Slumping forwards with the dead orc, he crashed hard onto the floor, screaming out in agony at the feet of the she-elf, who could only stare dumbly back at him.

Hand pressed still against my chest, I struggled across the room. For some reason unknown to me, the orcs had lost interest in us and were evacuating the house, except for all those killed by the elf pair.

"You killed them all," the bargeman's son exclaimed, staring awestruck at all the dismembered orc bodies spread out all over his floor.

"There are others," the blonde elf said. "Tauriel, come," he added, to the she-elf, making to leave. So they weren't planning to take us back to their dungeons then.

I fell down between her and Oin, beside Kili on the floor just as Fili clambered over to us. His reddened cheeks now a deathly pale, it seemed as if his stand against the orc had cost Kili dearly.

"We're losing him," the healer cried, looking up at the she-elf. She looked from him to the other elf, uncertain. On the floor, I was close to screaming in frustration- that was if I could manage a scream with my chest as sore as it was. If the she-elf at Rivendell could heal my concussion with a few words, then what was there to say that these elves couldn't help us now.

"Can't- you- do... something?" I gasped, as the she-elf turned to leave. But it wasn't my words that made her turn back. Rather it was a loud groan from the dwarf beneath us. Whatever lucidity Kili had when he was fending off the orc was now long gone. Eyes rolling back, Kili blindly grabbed at what he could reach, which turned out to be his brother's sleeve and my free hand.

"Kee," Fili whispered, grasping his brother's hand. I watched as a single tear rolled down his cheek, leaving a track in all the grime and dust, and fell onto the younger dwarf's tunic. "It's me, Fili. I'm here. You're safe now; I've got you."

Beneath us, Kili only began to whimper.

" _ Amad? Amad _ ?" Mother? Mother?

Struggling to hold my own tears back, I gently squeezed the clammy hand in my own.

"Hey, hey. You need- you need to- stay with us," I whispered. "You can't leave- you can't leave me here... with all the... sensible ones. Where would be- where would be the fun in that?"

"Get him onto the table." The she-elf had returned, for whatever reason. "Get him up off the floor."

Her tone was sharp and authoritative; two tones that had never appealed much to me, but I was too shocked and relieved at her sudden reappearance to complain much. Looking up, I caught sight of Bofur standing at the door, staring open-mouthed at the remains of the bargeman's front room. Not that he himself didn't look too battered. Whatever had happened though his quest had been a successful one: the she-elf was now walking around, clutching a plant and chanting to herself.

Oin, Fili and Bofur managed to lift Kili between them, even as he weakly fought against them, and get him onto the kitchen table. For all his weakened state, Kili's grip had remained strong in my own and so I had only awkwardly followed them, still holding onto his hand. At the table, Fili cleared off some of the goods, before climbing up himself and sitting, cradling his brother's head at the top.

"Hold him down," the she-elf ordered, as Kili continued to toss and moan. Taking his arm, I held it as best as I could down, even though the sickened dwarf just would not stop trying to fight back.

The she-elf came over to his injured side and took a moment to examine the wound. Evidently what she had found there had disturbed her- by then, even the smell of the wound was enough to tell that it had festered and had festered bad.

Chanting again in her elvish tongue, she rolled the herb over and over again in her hands, before holding it against the wound. Even just that touch caused Kili to scream and almost to break out of our combined hold. The bargeman's daughters rushed to my side and helped me steady him.

As the she-elf continued her chanting, the fight slowly seemed to die in Kili, his head lolling back against his brother and his eyes blearily fixed on the she-elf.

"That should do it," she eventually said, back in the Common Tongue. Taking the clean bandages offered by Oin, she bandaged the wound again. "His leg will hurt still and need time to heal, but the poison will not affect him anymore."

As if to prove her words, I went to touch Kili's forehead again, yet found his skin cool under my touch. He still looked pale, but a little colour was returning to his cheeks. It was a miracle. A strange, elf-caused miracle. What sort of magic could bring someone back that was so close to death.

Leaving the she-elf to finish binding up his leg, I found Oin and Fili in the bargeman's kitchen, looking both like they were in need of a good drink. They were smiling though, albeit wearily.

"You've got something there," Fili whispered to me, as Oin busied himself with his medicine box, pointing at his own cheek. Hastily, I rubbed the stray tear away from my own, coughing awkwardly as I did.

"You take another hit, lass?" Oin asked after a while, having watched me rub my side repeatedly in my search for something stronger than broth in what was left of the kitchen.

"I'm fine. Just got thrown about a bit. I'll walk it off." The healer though, now without a patient, would not take that for an answer. He waved me over, probed about my side a bit with his fingers, and diagnosed me with:

"A cracked rib, I think," he announced. "Didn't Dwalin give you fighting lessons to avoid another injury?"

"He didn't teach me how to fight orcs in a front room with just a frying pan," I snapped, rolling my tunic back down. "I took out a few of the bastards before the elves showed up, I'd have you know."

"She wasn't too bad," Fili joined in. He grinned when he saw my expression at 'wasn't too bad'. "She has a swing, that's for sure."

"Next time, I'll be sure to do a 'Fili'," I retorted, butting his shoulder with my own as I passed him. "Use my bone-hard head to knock out the enemy." He laughed at that.

"Not too sensible for you then?" he asked. I wondered when that would come back to bite me.

"Don't mind me. Just trying to keep my source of constant amusement alive."

_ How _ , I wondered then,  _ had our night turned to this _ ? One moment, we were nursing our dying friend; then fighting off orcs; then being... oh, fine, I'll admit it- saved by elves; and now, with Kili set to live and the orcs gone, having a light-hearted banter match in the bargeman's kitchen.

"Found some!" In one of the cupboards, Bofur had located something and, by the sound of glass clinking as he reemerged, it was something good.

"Hey," the bargeman's son called out from across the room. "That's our Da's!"

"It's for medicinal purposes, lad," Bofur replied, quickly handing me the bottle, as if to avoid the blame. Shrugging, I opened the top and sniffed it: whisky, if I wasn't mistaken.

"We'll repay you for it once we reach the mountain," Fili quickly reassured him. "Along with the other damages." It looked like we were paying for a new roof then and a good deal of new furniture. I wondered if Balin had had a clause for expenses like this in his contract.

The thought of Balin suddenly drew my mind back to the mountain. As I took a quick swig and passed the bottle along, coughing as the fiery liquid hit the back of my throat, I made my way over to the window.

"Can you hear that?" I said, hoping that it was just my tired, frazzled mind playing tricks on me. Unless I was very much mistaken, I could have sworn I heard a distant noise, almost like a crash, far-off towards the mountain.

I wasn't, unfortunately, mistaken. Around us, the house shook again, showering us in yet more dust, but there were no orcs this time. Only screams on the street and then the sudden cries of the bargeman's children in the house with us.

"The dragon," I whispered, turning back to my companions. The whisky bottle sat untouched in Bofur's hands.

From below in the streets, the screams only grew louder. And then... Then the bells began to ring out.

"It's coming."


	16. I See Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do not wake sleeping dragons.

"We have no time; we must leave." The she-elf stalked back into the house. As if the cries from outside were not enough to get us moving.

"Get him up," Bofur called out, as Fili moved across to his brother, still laid out on the bargeman's kitchen table. Taking advantage of the distraction, I snatched the whiskey bottle from Bofur's hand and took another long swig of it. With a dragon incoming, I needed all the courage I could get. This long night was only going to get longer- that was if we made it through to dawn.

"Come on, brother." Fili began to help his brother up off of the table, but Kili only shook him off.

"I'm fine," he snapped. "I can walk." And indeed he could. Compared to how he had been an hour before, the fact he could even stand unaided was a miracle in itself.

"Fast as you can," the she-elf continued to nag; not that we needed the encouragement. Having decided to bring the bottle along with me, I made my way across the room and began to sort through our other things, grabbing the few items of clothing I had picked up from the Master's house. A thick cloak and some rusty pauldrons were hardly going to keep a burst of dragon flame off, but it was worth a try. It was hardly as if I had much option on the matter.

"We're not leaving!" The bargeman's lad was the only one of us willing to stand up to the she-elf, all earlier respect for her orc-slaying prowess long gone. "Not without our father."

"If you stay here, your sisters will die," the she-elf replied, bluntly, as if she wasn't standing right in front of the bargeman's two daughters. "Is that what your father would want?"

Grabbing up the rest of our group's things- cloaks mainly and Oin's medical things- I carried them over to the door and threw them down into the boat below. Out on the canal, people were already on the move, climbing into their own little wherries and barges and bringing out all of their own worldly possessions. The bells were still toiling; shouts continued to ring out from all around. Above the general din however came a deep grumble from the skies, one that momentarily silenced the noisy town as every face turned upwards.

"Look!" One woman exclaimed from just below our balcony. Looking up, I too saw just what had caught her gaze: a winged shadow, sweeping across the night sky, and not very far away at all. My stomach only sunk further.

"Come on!" Spinning around, I shouted to the others through the open doorway. "We've got to go. Now!"

If the she-elf was surprised by my sudden support for her nagging, she didn't show it. Rather she just herded the bargeman's daughters, both now heavily cloaked, to the door and down the steps to the small platform below. Then followed the bargeman's reluctant son and then my own fellow dwarves.

"Have we got everything?" I called out, as the others made their way down to the boat. Being the last one down, I thought to give the room one final scan. Just in case. The front room of the house having been trashed in the orc attack, it was difficult to guess just what valuables were being left behind among all the shattered wood and crockery. Then again, with the dragon's attack imminent, perhaps not saving anything other than ourselves was for the best.

"My doll!" The bargeman's younger daughter cried out, just as I joined the others already piling into the boat. Sitting up, she looked about herself in a panic.

"We haven't got time," the she-elf said, still as blunt as before. She was already in the boat and, to my annoyance, at its bow.

"But I can't leave her behind!" Already the girl was on her feet and looking set to climb out.

"Da will get you another one," her sister tried to reassure her. "You can't go back now. We've got to leave."

"It won't be the same one," the girl wailed. "Ma made it for me. It's the last thing I have of her."

I was just about to (reluctantly) agree with the she-elf again and meekly climb into the boat when a sudden memory came to mind. It wasn't of the girl's missing doll, but of another lost toy. An image I had not thought to ever see again; one that caught me unexpected and left a hard lump in my throat. Of a patchy, moth-bitten, toy rabbit, long since lost in the tunnels of Ered Luin. One that had once been stitched together by a mother, long since dead and buried within Ered Luin.  _ No, Nithi, don't do it. This is suicide. Don't get yourself killed over a stupid doll. _

Groaning aloud, I turned away from the boat and sprinted back up the stairs, taking two at a time, trying all the while to ignore the stabbing pain in my side.

"Nithi?! What are you doing? NITHI!" I heard the voices shouting out behind me: Fili first, and then the others. They were now all in the boat, all ready to leave. But I kept moving upwards, sure they'd wait just long enough for me to do it, tearing into the house with barely moments to spare.

I had been the last to leave and so had left the candles lit and the door ajar. It seemed to make little odds really considering what was coming, but it proved to save me a few vital seconds. Running inside, I dropped to the knees and began to fumble under all the rubbish. Not finding it where I could have sworn it had been, I turned and began to dig, clawing through the debris with only my fingers. I could have sworn I had seen it here before.

"Nithi!" I looked over my shoulder, surprised to hear my name being called so close by. Breathless, Fili stood in the doorway, clutching the wooden frame for support. He spotted me from across the room and ran over, grabbing me around the middle and dragging me roughly back up to my feet, just as I grabbed the stray doll from beneath a pile of shattered plates.

"What are you doing?! Are you trying to-" he shouted, spinning me around to face him. But something in my expression stopped him from any further shouting. His face softened and, taking me by the shoulder, he hauled me out of the house and back down the stairs.

"Are you trying to get us all killed?" The she-elf all but snapped at me as Fili helped me into the boat and pushed me down onto a seat beside the bargeman's daughters.

Too breathless to answer her question, I only held up the doll. Beside me, the bargeman's youngest gasped and, as the small barge began to move forward, she threw her arms around me, having first reclaimed her doll. That response certainly caught me off-guard. Wincing from the pain to my injured side, I patted the young girl's hair awkwardly until she finally let go.

"We better just hope we have not run out of time," the she-elf added, before turning her back on me.

"Why did you do that?" the girl asked, gazing up at me through her tears, clutching the doll to her chest.

I only shrugged, still unsure myself why I had done it. It had been a stupid, painful, and reckless move, putting not only my life at risk, but also the lives of the others in the boat. Just something about that doll had reminded me of another young girl, albeit one who had not been quite so young or quite so sweet for a long time. Perhaps it was the whisky. Perhaps I was just beginning to grow soft in my old age. I could only hope for the former.

Leaving the girl to be comforted by her sister, I turned around to find Fili standing only just behind me; he and Bofur both steering the boat along from the back with large wooden poles. I wondered if he too wanted an explanation, an apology, or perhaps even a 'thank you' for what had just happened. Before I could say anything though, a great set of grey wings and underbelly flew overhead, causing any words to catch in my throat.

Crying out with fear, the bargeman's children instinctively crouched down, hands over their heads; Oin once more having thrown himself and his cloak over them. As if that would make much difference. My gaze meeting Fili's, I saw my own terror reflected in his eyes. It was too late. We had run out of time. Whether my last-minute dash had made much difference or not, we all were now caught in the line of fire.

Far above us, I watched as the winged shadow doubled back on itself, its body a glowing ember on the night sky as it wheeled back around towards the town. Shouting out myself, I ducked, burying my face into the younger girl's shoulder. Behind me, I could sense Fili and Bofur too crouching down.

The gust of wind that hit us was strong and it was hot- horrifically hot, but just not hot enough. Surprised to find myself still alive, I looked up only to see the fire in the distance; the ramshackle wooden houses like tinderboxes in the wake of the attack. Before I could so much as catch my breath though, another burst of flames tore again through the town, narrowly missing our boat by only a few yards. The sheer heat of the attack was enough. My tunic beneath the cloak was stuck to my back; my face wet with perspiration. We may as well have been left to roast in an oven. Suddenly it was like the spit all over again, just with no hope of the dragon turning to stone in the sunlight.

As the attack continued, the screams all around only increased, coming from both the burnt and the unburnt alike. People seemed to be fleeing in all directions- whether on foot, on boat, or even just trying to swim for safety. The dragon however was relentless, circling the town as it went, almost as if it was toying with us. One moment it would be directly overhead and then the next it would be at the other end of town. Death could come at any second.

My eyes fixed on the moving shadow above us, I hadn't spotted the larger boat about to collide with us until Bofur cried out. The crash caused our much smaller boat to lurch, but miraculously we remained afloat. As pieces of gold showered down from the much larger boat while it pushed its way past us, I suddenly recognised just who was sailing it, illuminated as they were by the flames of a nearby burning house. The town's Master and his little snake of an accomplice and then some of the town's guard, no doubt Brenna's father being one of them.

"Faster! Faster!" I heard the Master call; his boat halting our own progress. Suddenly it didn't seem too wrong of me to grab for some of the gold as it fell into the water. If the Master noticed, he didn't say anything. Rather his large boat continued onwards, followed by our own smaller thing, struggling behind in its wake.

"Da, Bain. Where did you last see Da?" The bargeman's older girl had to shout to get herself heard above the din. Tears streaming down her face, she continued to rebuke her brother. "You have to know where he is!"

"The Master's men were after him," her brother shouted back. "He could be anywhere."

"We need to find him. We need to save him."

Our boat sailed on regardless though, but the crowds on the shore had melted away. The screams continued, as did the bells, but people were no longer out in the open. Those who had been, I realised to my horror, as several dark objects floated past our boat, hadn't lasted long.

The she-elf seemed to be coming to a similar realisation. She halted the boat as it passed under a low building. It was a good thing she did. Only moments later, the dragon tore past, throwing up yet another fiery jet as it went. Shielding my eyes with my hands, I could only pray to Mahal that I would make it long enough to survive the night. The only positive I could find in this whole damned situation was the fact that Bofur was stuck in the boat with me. His 'furnace with wings' comment had haunted me since the hobbit's house and it only seemed fitting that he would be here to face it with me.

The boat surged on again, now on clearer waters. No boat lay in front of us, but the houses on both sides of us were ablaze. However, there was some sort of light at the end of our tunnel and not just because the damned thing was on fire.

"Look!" the bargeman's son cried out. "The gate. We've almost made it out of here."

And he was right. Looking ahead down the canal, I could just spy another toll gate, perhaps even the one Percy had manned the day we had been smuggled into the town. The building beside the gate was on fire, but the gate itself still held fast. All we had to do was reach it before the dragon came back our way.

But the bargeman's son had spied something else.

"Da?" he cried. Next to him, his sisters too gasped and began to cry out. Following the direction of their gaze, I too spotted the bargeman, atop the tower with his ancestor's crossbow. Standing alone, he continued to shoot as the beast flew past him, shooting at him with only a common longbow to hand.

"He hit it!" Kili yelled, jubilantly. "He hit the dragon!"

"No," the she-elf exclaimed.

"He did! He hit his mark! I saw!" Kili continued. Not that the hit had made much of a difference, I thought, watching the dragon wheel around in the distance.

"His arrows cannot pierce its hide," the she-elf only calmly corrected him. "I fear nothing will."

Before us, the burning buildings were beginning to crumble under the weight of the flames. As we narrowly avoided being hit by a shower of burning debris, a sudden idea came to the bargeman's son. With little warning, he jumped up and grabbed ahold of a metal hook, one of the many hanging over the canal to remove heavy goods. Narrowly avoiding Fili's and Bofur's attempts to grab him and his sister's screams, the boy calmly swung onto the canal side and ran into the burning town.

"Leave him!" the she-elf ordered. "We cannot go back."

Aghast, the rest of us could only watch the boy disappear down one of the many turns.

"He's just a bairn!" Oin cried, as below him the boy's sisters burst into tears. "We cannot leave him to die."

"Who died and left you in charge?" I too snapped at the she-elf, but my quarrel with her was less to do with her ethics and more to do with her need to take charge of us. Turning to Fili, I asked: "Should we go after him?"

The prince looked from me to where the lad had disappeared.

"There's no way we'd find him now," he sighed. "We'd best carry on." Beside me, the girls' sobs only loudened.

"Has he gone to Da?" The younger one cried. "Would he have reached him?" For some reason, perhaps because of the doll, she had turned to me for answer. Staring first at her tear-streaked face and then at the tower in the distance, I could only nod dumbly.

"Sure," I finally said, but then the sight behind her caught my breath. Grabbing her and pressing her face against my shoulder in case she would see it, I watched as the dragon collided with the bargeman's tower, knocking its platform almost clear off.

"Don't look!" I shouted, but the girl only pushed me away, turning at the sound of her sister's cries.

"He's up there!" she cried. "Bain too! They're alive!"

"What's the dragon doing?" Kili called up.

"He's- he's perching?" Upright, Bofur squinted through the heat.

"Who are you who would stand against me?!" The dragon's roar resonated across the town. "Now that is a pity. What will you do now, bowman? You are forsaken. No help will come."

"He's going to kill Da," the older girl sobbed. "The dragon's going to kill them both!"

"Get down!" The she-elf snapped. "Do not listen to him. Cover your ears if you must. The dragon could be talking to anyone."

The girls crouched down, but continued to stare behind them, even as the tower and the dragon went out of view. The tollgate came closer. Its gate had long since been broken down and so we passed through it easily enough, Fili and Bofur still diligently pushing us on.

Out on the open dark water of the lake, we were now free to make for the distant shore. Fires blazed still on the water, burning objects still aflame as they floated past us, but here at least the air was cooler and not so full of smoke. Still the girls continued to watch behind us, gasping yet again as the tower came into view.

"He's going for them!" The younger girl cried, jumping up. Her sudden movement only caused the small boat to rock again, especially when I too jumped up to grab hold of her. "The dragon's going for them!"

Forgetting instantly just why I had jumped up, I too could only watch dumbly as the dragon roared and flew straight for the bargeman's tower. It crashed into it, causing the wooden structure to tumble over, bringing down its inhabitants with it.

As the older girl choked out yet more sobs, curling up into a small ball of misery, her sister only continued to stand, watching the scene open-mouthed. The dragon ploughed through the town, crashing through buildings and towers, before taking once more to the sky, groaning loudly as it did.

"Has it been hit?" Kili cried, but I couldn't answer him.

With a few weakened beats of his wings, the dragon coiled and tumbled through the air, gasping and growling. It reached a height before its wings stilled and then, with little warning, began to fall lifelessly to the ground.

"He hit it! He hit it!" Kili continued to cry, even if the rest of us could scarcely dare to believe it.

The dragon hit the water with a great crash. Even out on the lake, we felt the tremor. Still standing but without poles for support, the bargeman's younger daughter and I lost our balance as the boat violently jolted. Tumbling backwards, we both fell, in a tangle of cloaks and hands, over the boat's side and into the black water below.

Shocked by the sudden cold of the water, I sank a good bit, before my limbs could react. Kicking my legs, I struggled against the weight of my sodden clothing, only just about breaking through the surface.

"Tilda?!" I shouted, only repeating the far-off shouts from the boat. I could have sworn the girl had fallen in with me. There was someone holding onto me as we fell, even if the water broke us apart. "Tilda!" I screamed out again, before once more sinking below the surface.

In the dark depths of the lake, I could only blindly tug at my cloak's catch. Soaked, the material was only weighing me down further. It hardly seemed worth drowning for. Having finally freed myself of the blasted thing, I once more kicked myself up.

"Tilda?!" I cried out again, but I needn't have worried. Having spent her whole life on this lake, the girl had reached the boat before me and it was now my name the others were shouting out in panic.

"Over here!" I shouted, finding myself now at some distance from the boat. Struggling still against the weight of my clothes, even without the cloak, I managed to paddle myself a short way forward before grabbing onto a floating object nearby for support. Only as the soft thing rolled over and stared lifelessly up at me did I realise what I had grabbed. Screaming and swearing, I recoiled back and once more slipped under the surface.

With each time I slipped under, the water was becoming yet more difficult to fight against. My limbs weary and my side in agony, I could only continue to paddle uselessly, the surface seemingly moving further away from me.

A hand though broke through the surface, followed by an arm. The hand grabbed the back of my tunic and hauled me up, pulling me over the side and back onto the boat. Gasping and shivering, I could only stare up at the she-elf as she turned, tugging down her wet sleeve.

"Cover her with something dry," she ordered, and thankfully she was obeyed. One of the others threw a dry cloak over me and I huddled underneath it, finding myself joined by another wet person.

"I'm sorry I made you fall in," the bargeman's youngest said, huddling closer to me for warmth. Too dazed to speak, I only put my arm around her shoulders, wearily watching as the burning town receded into the distance.

"He did it!" Beside me, Kili grinned at me. "The dragon's dead. Smaug is dead!" From the back of the boat, his brother could only smile wearily at his younger brother's enthusiasm, still guiding the boat onwards.

Towards the east, the sky was beginning to lighten and with it came a better view of the desolation. The floating corpse I had grabbed onto was only one of many, beyond count. As the sun rose, the sheer numbers of those in the lake, whether alive or dead, swimming or in boats, only became more apparent.

Having finally reached the shore where already a number of people were assembling on the beach, tending to survivors or building makeshift shelters, we docked the boat and climbed out.

"You gave us quite a scare there," Bofur said, giving me a hand up. "Falling in like that."

"Just felt like the need for a swim," I replied, wearily, drawing the cloak tightly around myself as I clambered over the side. "I wouldn't recommend drinking the lake water either," I added, almost as an after-thought, as the lake's gentle current brought with it yet more burnt corpses to the shore. Standing on the small stony beach, I came to a halt when I spotted a familiar shade of red among the grey pebbles.

Leaving the others without a word, I ran across the beach, caring little for the hostile stares and harsh words of the people around me. I would have gone to her side, but another woman was there, pulling her free from the water and laying her out on the beach.

She must have been trying to escape when the dragon had hit. Perhaps without her father, she had made to swim her way free. Perhaps she had fled with her mother, perhaps not. I looked up at some of the other nearby bodies to see if I could recognise her mother, but even if she was there, I did not see her face among them. Perhaps, in trying to swim away, she had only brought herself directly under the dragon's path.

Her head lolling to the side, Brenna stared at me with no recognition or life in her eyes. Her hair, so lovingly trussed up for the Master's party, was half singed away. What was left was plastered across her blistered cheeks. Even in my anger at her for turning her back on me when I had asked for aid, I would never have wished such a fate on her. I couldn't think of a worse one.

"Nithi?" It was Fili who once again reached my side first, followed in time by the other dwarves. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," I said, quietly, watching as the woman closed the girl's eyes.

Fili looked from me to the girl. "You knew her, didn't you?"

"Yes. For a little while."

He only sighed, following my gaze away from Brenna's body and across the lake to where smoke still rose from what remained of Lake Town. Then, with no warning, his arms were around me and my face was buried into his shoulder. For once, I didn't fight it.

"We need to leave soon," he said, to the others. "Before things get ugly." I only nodded wordlessly

"Are you alright?" he added, to me.

"I'm-" I went to say that I was fine, but then stopped myself. What was the point of lying at a time like this. "I- I don't know," I finally answered, and it was the closest thing to the truth I could think of saying. "I really don't know."

We had survived the night, all five of us dwarves. We had defeated the dragon. The mountain now lay open to us, just another day or so ahead. The quest was over.

_ But _ , I thought, as I stood there on that smoky beach among the dead and wounded, holding tightly onto Fili,  _ at what cost? _


	17. Forged in Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nithi gets her first sight of the treasures of Erebor.

Only Mahal knew how long we remained there, holding each other on that grey beach among the dead and dying. Only a hesitant cough from Kili's direction drew us apart, finding the other dwarves looking between us, barely bothering to hide their curiosity.

"It's been a long night," was all Fili had to say on the subject, turning back for the bargeman's boat.

The others seemed to accept that well enough, other than for a few more curious looks my way. Without Fili's warm arms around my middle, I was starting to feel the cold again. My impromptu swim in the lake had done little to help matters and the weak winter sunlight was hardly going to dry my clothes off any time soon.

Leaving the others to their inquisitive stares, I too made for the shoreline, even if I would have rather turned further up the beach to where the men were beginning to set up small fires. Careful to keep my blanket dry and free of the water, I paddled into the lake as far as the water reached my knees, finding Fili already in the boat and grabbing up some rope.

"Where are the girls?" I called up to him and earning myself the end of the rope in answer.

"Tauriel's taken them to find their father and brother," he replied, before climbing down and landing with a splash beside me in the lake. "Should you be doing this?" he added, as he began to guide the boat by the rope further up the shore.

"I'm already wet," I said, throwing the blanket back into the boat and grabbing onto the rope. It seemed the least I could do considering he had been decent enough to comfort me only moments before. Together, we pulled the boat back to where the others stood, minus Kili who had disappeared among the crowd.

"Where's Kili gone?" Fili thought to ask. Oin shrugged.

"Said he had something to do," Bofur replied. Somehow he and Oin had managed to acquire three more bargepoles and so it now seemed we'd all have a hand in guiding the boat across the lake.

"He better hurry up," Fili said. "We better leave here before things get any uglier."

As if they could get any uglier. Along with the cries and wails of the townspeople assembled on the beach came a sense of anger among the despair. If the dirty looks shot our way weren't enough, then certainly some of the insults thrown at us proved unrepeatable. I had hoped to have said goodbye to the bargeman's two daughters, at least the younger girl, but, with the mood on the beach like this perhaps Fili was right.

"There he is!" Oin had finally spotted the renegade dwarf, halfway up the beach. "He's talking to the she-elf." Of course he would be.

"Come on," Fili shouted out behind him, as the rest of us began to push the boat back into the water. "We're leaving."

Kili must have been unfazed by his brother's threats as he did not appear right away. Oin, having clambered into the boat ahead of us, only stared openly at the two on the beach, bestowing on us a detailed commentary that none of us had asked for.

"He's talking to her. She's turning away- no, wait! She's turning back-"

"Enough," I groaned, struggling to push the boat back off the shore. This had been so much easier when it had been left in the water. Of course Oin ignored me.

"She's really staring at him! And now that other elf's arrived."

Perhaps I had misjudged how interesting this scene on the beach was playing out. As we finally pushed the boat off of the rocks, Bofur lifted me up and I was able to watch Kili walking back up the beach towards the she-elf. That was before I lost my balance and tumbled gracefully into the boat.

"What's he doing now?" Bofur's own climb into the boat had proved less eventful than mine. He was straining to see what was going on. He did however give me a hand back up to my feet.

"Looks like he's giving her something," I said, also struggling to see what was going on what with Kili's back in the way.

"Giving her what?" Still on the shore, Fili's own view was not much better than our own. Even with the boat finally in the water, he seemed reluctant to climb aboard yet without his younger brother.

"A stone I think." Nosy to the last, Oin had gone as far as to climb up onto one of the boat's seats. "A pebble mayhaps."

Fili visibly stiffened at that.

"What does it look like?" he said, in a low voice.

"Black, I think." I too clambered up onto a seat, squinting at whatever was in the she-elf's hand. "Smooth. Shiny. Don't think it's a pebble."

Fili groaned. He accepted Bofur's hand and was hauled up onto the boat.

"That's because it isn't a pebble," he said, his eyes narrowing in his brother's direction. "Pass me a bargepole."

Surprised by his sudden change of heart, I could only dumbly pass him one of the poles. As Kili turned back for the boat, Oin and I quickly jumped down from our various perches, picking up our own poles and nonchalantly began to paddle with the others. If Kili had spotted us, he didn't mention it. Rather he just walked out into the lake, pulled himself up over the boat's side, and took up his own oar.

The journey across the lake was a difficult one. Alongside the bodies, it seemed as if half of the town's infrastructure had floated out during the night. It didn't seem that a minute passed without Fili, at the front of the boat, signalling us to a halt and knocking some burnt-up piece of wood away with his own oar. He did so in silence, his shoulders hunched.

We eventually reached the shore and docked the boat as best as we could in the shallow waters. It was hardly likely that the bargeman was around still to reclaim it, but it seemed rude after all he had done to just leave his boat cast adrift.

Kili was last to clamber over the boat's side. As he turned around, his foolish grin faltered in the face of his brother's quiet fury. Without a word, Fili grabbed his younger brother by the arm and marched him off ahead and towards the relative privacy of a nearby copse of trees, Kili struggling to keep up with him what with his leg and all. Just as the pair disappeared from view, us remaining dwarves on the beach caught the distant sound of raised voices.

"A dwarf courting an elf," Oin huffed as he repacked his goods from the boat, clearly disgusted by the idea. "I never thought I would see the day."

Both Bofur and I started at that.

"I'd hardly call giving an elf a pebble courting," I laughed, incredulous. "Maybe back in your day, but definitely not now."

Oin huffed again at that.

"It wasn't just a pebble though, was it?" he continued. "That there was a rune stone. A dwarvish rune stone. You two haven't seen him then bringing that blasted thing out of his pocket every time he thought no one was watching him?" Bofur and I exchanged a look.

"So that's what that was!" Bofur said, looking suddenly relieved. "And there was me thinking it was something else..." That comment certainly gave food for thought.

"A rune stone? So what. You can buy them five a penny back at Ered Luin." Perhaps that was an exaggeration on my part, but I had lived in a small room with a dwarf obsessed by the bloody things. If Tigs could have afforded to do so, she would have turfed the rest of us out and used the space for her own stone collection. As if we didn't already live in a mountain and surrounded by stone.

"Not that stone. Someone carved it especially for that boy and he's just gone off and given it to the first pretty thing that batted her eyelashes at him. And then not just any pretty thing, but an elf! That fever must have addled the lad's brains."  _ Not that he had much to start with. _

"He- he can't, can he?" Bofur said, serious again. "I mean, his uncle would never allow it."

We didn't have to say a word, but all three of us then turned to look up at the mountain; once a dark shape on the distant skyline, the Lonely Mountain now loomed over us. Of course Oakenshield would never approve of such a match in a million ages. That was if he (and the others) were still alive.

"Come on," Bofur said, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen. "They've quietened down now. If we get moving now, we might reach the mountain before nightfall."

"Reckon they've patched things up?" I said, after a few minutes of walking in silence up the beach.

Bofur shrugged: "They're brothers. They probably fight all the time. They'll be friends again in no time."

Only they weren't back on friendly terms when we caught up with them. Nor were they talking again when Bofur finally gave up, exhausted, and asked for us to set up camp for the night. We did just that, setting our few remaining belongings down within a makeshift shelter between two large rocks. As Bofur set about making a fire with Fili, I was pulled along with Oin and a quiet Kili to find dinner.

"They don't call this land the Desolation for nothing," Oin huffed, after an unsuccessful hour of foraging. He dumped the few root vegetables we had managed to dig up before the fire. 

"Looks like we'll be eating as well as elves tonight," Bofur said, cheerfully enough, but that comment went down as well as the raw potato I was trying to choke back. With both Durin brothers sitting as far away from each other as possible, while still being close enough to the fire to keep warm, it seemed 'elves' was still a sensitive subject. 

"What are you doing?" Oin said, finally breaking the awkward silence although only to tell me off.

"Eating," I said, mouth full of hard potato. "Hungry."

"You should cook it first," the bossy dwarf said, reminding me a little too much of Nori's older brother. He snatched the remaining potato from my hand and skewered it on a stick he had found. "You can toast it over the fire." 

"Reckon I can eat this raw?" Bofur asked, holding up another vegetable by its green stems. Before Oin could stop him, he took a large bite of its white bulb only to spit it back out moments later. "What on earth was that?"

"Garlic," Oin fumed, snatching the remainder of the bulb from him. "That wasn't for eating. I was saving it for my medicines." 

"Whatever medicine it's for, I don't want it," Bofur retorted, wiping his tongue with the back of his hand. 

Such a scene would have had the lads laughing at any other time, but Kili was only staring into the flames and Fili was staring behind himself at the mountain ahead. After that, the conversation effectively died, leaving us all to our own thoughts. I too was staring into the fire, watching the skin of the potato wither and burn in the flames. Oin may have nudged me a few times to remind me to pull it back out, but I left it to burn, finding my appetite gone. 

As I had slept the most recently, I took watch duty by the fire. As the others huddled up under their cloaks, I sat alone, finding some entertainment in making pictures in the dirt with one of Oin's sticks. 

"Mind if I join you?" The sudden voice made me jump. Guiltily, remembering then that I was supposed to be watching out for threats, I threw the stick into the fire and looked up.

"You don't have to ask," I said, nonchalantly trying to cover up my dirt drawings. "But you really should be sleeping."

Fili smiled at that, a grim smile but a smile nonetheless. 

"No, seriously. Unless you fancy falling asleep on us tomorrow. I mean, when was the last time you slept?" He had to think about that one.

"Night of the Master's party," he said. So, a good two nights back. 

"Go to sleep!" I said, a little too loudly. Behind us, Bofur stirred, let out a large snore, and rolled over. Exhaling, I turned back to Fili. "We really don't want you to get this close to Erebor only to die of sleep exhaustion at the gates." 

"I'll be fine," he insisted. "I can't sleep anyway."

"Penny for your thoughts?" I said, finding his company a lot more entertaining than the stick and the dirt. "No, wait, I'm broke." 

"Even with the Master's gold?" So he had noticed me scoop up the fallen coins from the water.

"I lost it all in the lake," I said, a fact that had annoyed me greatly when I had finally thought to check my pockets. 

"Shame."

"You're telling me." 

We sat in companionable silence after that, each lost to our own thoughts. I was trying my hardest not to think of tomorrow: what we would find in the mountain, what had happened to our companions. I was trying my hardest not to think about the night before: the dragon, the fire, the lake,... and the dead. Between those two, there was little else to distract myself with.

"You're shivering." I looked up at that.

"I guess I am," I replied. Even after a whole day, I still was drying out. My borrowed cloak had long grown damp from the wet clothes beneath it and so was proving to offer little warmth that night. "That's what you get for late night swimming in winter," I added.

Fili frowned at that. Before I could refuse (not that I felt like refusing too much), he was taking off his own cloak and draping it over my shoulders.

"Are you ever not noble? Are you ever not sacrificing your self for the good of us all?" I asked, only half-joking, having then removed my damp one and huddling under his. It was just so warm and so dry. And, even for a cloak borrowed only just the day before, it smelt like him. Like smoke mostly - we all stank of it, but the cloak also had the faint smell of grass and leather beneath the smoke and general Lake Town fish-rot smell. 

Only when I noticed Fili staring at me in an odd way did I realise I was too obvious with my sniffing.

"I wasn't noble today," he said, mercifully ignoring the sniffing incident. I refrained from giving the cloak another sniff, rather wrapping it tightly around myself. "I haven't yelled at Kee like that in a long time. Last night, I thought... I thought we were going to lose him, but he lived and- And rather than just being happy for him, I bollocked him for-"

"For getting over-friendly with an elf?"

"Not that," he sighed. "Although that can't help. No, it was him giving away Amad's rune-stone. As if it was just some trinket he could give to whoever he pleased." 

"Oh, that." That explained a lot.

"Amad had it especially made for him. Something of hers to take along with him, along with Da's old hunting bow. She had... she had it carved for him with a promise she made him say: 'return to me', so that he'd remember to," he said. "And now it's merely some love token for some she-elf that he'll never see again and his word's as good as nothing." 

"I don't know. 'Return to me'? That's a pretty clear promise to make. I'm sure if you send him back to the Blue Mountains- that is where your Amad lives, right?" He nodded. "Give him a map, tell him to keep to the path, not to antagonise too many elves. Or flirt with them either," I added. "He'll fulfil it one way or another." 

"That's if he's talking to me by then."

I raised my eyebrow at that. 

"Haven't you fought like this before?" He shook his head. "Seriously?"

"We've had fights," he admitted, "but never this badly or for this long."

"It's been half a day," I said, aghast. "I've had longer cordial spells with Nori! You'll both sleep on it- or, rather, he will, and then you'll be best of friends tomorrow. You're brothers after all."

"I hope it's that simple."

I couldn't think of anything to say to that. Leaning over, I went to give him an awkward pat on the shoulder - anything just to show something that resembled sympathy - only to notice him shivering, rubbing his hands together.

"Not you too," I sighed, before raising my cloaked arm up. It was rather warm underneath it. "Come on."

"You sure?" he asked, hastily crawling over. The cloak was big, having previously belonged to a fully-grown man, but it wasn't that big. It was a bit of a squeeze with both of us underneath it. There were a few grunts, some manoeuvring, and some whispered apologies, before we made ourselves comfortable enough: Fili with his arm over my shoulder and the cloak over both of our shoulders. 

"You don't mind?" he had whispered, and I hadn't, at least that much. He warmed up soon enough and he smelt good, even if his hair kept blowing into my face.

We watched the fire for awhile again in silence, interrupting each others' thoughts only to lean forward and throw another stick now and then. 

"Do you have brothers?" As ever, it was Fili who broke the silence.

"What? What a strange question! 'Do you have brothers?'"

He merely shrugged: "Do you?"

"Yes," I replied, eventually. "Two. Older than me. Good deal bigger too." That surprised him.

"You never said you had any."

"Yeah," I said, glancing up at him. "It was just us three growing up: me, Stithi, and Squithi."

"Stithi? Squithi?" I watched him mouth the names, puzzled, only for him to catch me struggling not to crack up.

"Very funny," he grumbled.

"Couldn't resist," I said, with a smirk. "To answer your question, no. I don't have any brothers, or sisters for that matter." He nodded at that.

"I just wondered."

"Well, wonder no more." 

"Then... did you have any cousins?"

"What is this?" Leaning away, I gave him a sharp look. What was he playing at? Kili's question game all over again? 

"Just making conversation," he said, with a shrug. "You told me about your old thieving gang. But you never mentioned anything about your family. Do they still live at Ered Luin?"

By family, he had to mean parents. My silence only answered his question.

"Ah," he said, after an awkward pause. "I shouldn't have asked."

"They died," I said. "A long time ago, when I was little. Ma first." He didn't respond to that, waiting for me to continue. And so I did, staring straight ahead at the flames. "She got sick one winter when I was small. Eight or nine maybe. She just didn't wake up one day. And then my da...

"Whatever it was, it wasn't a physical sickness. He was still himself in body. It was just... losing Ma like that, I think it broke something in him. He stopped working first, in the mines and all that. The work wasn't good to begin with; that's why Ma grew sick. We couldn't afford doctors or treatment and anyway my Ma seemed to proud for it all. She just got sicker without making a fuss until... Well, until she died.

"Da stopped working and the money ran out. When the money went so did the food, but he didn't seem to notice. Just sat there, staring at the walls of our little room." The shadows flickering beside the fire drew back the memory of the filthy little hole, the filthy, hungry little girl and her toy rabbit, and the solitary, still figure in the corner.

"Then, one morning, I came back and he was... He'd just lost whatever will was left." I sniffed then, bringing my story to an end. "After that, I grabbed what I could and left. I'd been pinching for a while before that; anything to feed myself with. I slept where I could, pinched what I could, and did whatever odd job I could find. So, yeah, that's my story." 

How had this conversation taken such a dark turn and why was I spilling my story to another without even the excuse of alcohol for my loose tongue? I found myself unwilling then to look at Fili's face, unwilling to see whatever pity rested on his features. I didn't want to be pitied - all I had ever wanted was to survive and to prosper. Two interlinked traits and yet so different: the latter having guided my decision to take up this quest in the first place and the former that had kept me alive this far. 

Fili said nothing at first to my tale, rather he just drew me closer to him, until my head rested on his shoulder and he had pulled the cloak further around my shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he said, finally, causing a small burst of annoyance in me. What use was his pity now?

"There's nothing to be sorry about," I responded, a little sharper than I had intended. "Shit happens."

We watched the fire in silence for a little while longer. Despite my sharp words, Fili kept his arm around my shoulders and I found his soft warmth to be a greater comfort than any unnecessary words. 

"What do you think we'll find tomorrow?" I said, breaking the silence only as the fire died down to embers and the sky began to lighten. Dawn may have been on the horizon and, even after all the trouble in reaching the mountain, a part of me wanted this night to continue. 

Hours must have passed since we had last talked and I had thought Fili had dozed off by now, my head still resting on his shoulder. He was however as awake as I was.

"I don't know," he mumbled, softly. "I really don't know."

The others woke not too long after that, grumbling about the cold and the lack of fire and food for a real breakfast. Even before they woke up, Fili and I had broken apart, casting the cloak aside and going back to our things. I helped Oin pack up what was left of his half-eaten garlic and wild herbs, while Fili helped his brother back to his feet and the two left then, using the excuse of needing the toilet to hopefully clear the air.

It must have worked as by the time we had set off again, they were side by side again, as if nothing had divided them in the first place. Whatever the two had said, it seemed that the prospect of finally entering the mountain, a place they had probably learned about from their uncle's knee, that really drew them together. 

The day was cool still, but it was a sunny one. We continued on our journey, our backs to the smouldering ruins of Lake Town. The path was a difficult one, even if the mountain loomed over us. Fresh rubble lay cast over the old; the dragon had evidently torn his way through this part on his way to destruction and then to his death. It made for an almighty sight - yet, also, a bloody awful path.

It was around midday when Bofur spotted the entrance up ahead, the ornate exterior of our ancestors, separated from us by a bridge and by yet more rubble. We needn't have worried for doors or for keys; Smaug had helped us in this feat by tearing through the stone in his rage, leaving a gaping hole in the side of the mountain. 

Wordlessly then, finally on level ground, we ran, across the bridge and into the ruins of what must have once been the entrance hall of our forefathers. What we found in there was little to ease our anxiety. Jagged and broken, lumps of dark carven stone were strewn across the room; a great and large room that was worryingly empty and silent, despite Bofur's echoing calls.

"Hello?" he shouted. "Bombur? Bifur? Anybody?" Silence, other than for the echoing remains of his voice. 

We made our way further in then, no longer having a dragon to fear of, but only of what we might find. The layout of Erebor was not greatly different to that of Ered Luin. Oin was the only one of our small group that had lived previously in the mountain, yet us younger ones found a staircase easily enough: a structure still standing secure despite years of dragon occupation. There was little point in splitting up then and none of us wanted to. We kept together as we made our way downwards into the mountain and we kept shouting, calling out the names of our friends and relatives, only to hear our own voices calling back to us.

"Wait!" A voice! We weren't the only ones of the original company left alive then! Even if we had to share this honour with the hobbit. Mahal, I had never been so happy to see that strange, little, beardless face, even when he had helped us escape in Mirkwood. The hobbit came running out of a doorway, breathless and panting.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" he cried, waving his hands. "You need to leave. We all need to leave." 

What was he talking about? We had only just arrived after months of - after months of all that! There was no way we could turn our backs on it. Bofur reiterated my thoughts on the matter, but the hobbit would not hear it.

"I've tried talking to him, but he won't listen," the hobbit continued.

"What do you mean, laddie?" Oin asked.

"Thorin!" Oakenshield? "Thorin. He's been down their for days. He doesn't sleep, he barely eats. He's not been himself. Not at all." 

As the hobbit continued to blather on, Fili's attention was caught by something, something beyond the hobbit's shoulder and down from whence the halfling had come. 

"It's this place," the hobbit concluded. "I think a sickness lies on it." 

"Sickness?" Kili's concern reflected my own, even if his was more justified, having almost died of his wounds in Lake Town. "What kind of sickness?"

"Is it contagious?" Perhaps leaving the mountain would not be such a bad idea after all.

It was then that Fili tore past his brother, past us all, and back down the staircase, despite the hobbit shouting his name out behind him. We ran then after him, down the winding and crumbling staircase. It was only when Fili stopped to an abrupt halt and I could finally take a better look at my surroundings did I realise where I stood: the cavern, the hall in my nightmare. Only this cavern, wide as it was, was not empty. Rather its entire surface as far as my little eyes could see was covered in a beautiful and heavy layer of gold.

The sight took my breath away - never had I seen something more beautiful. I fought the urge to run then, straight past Fili and the others, down further to where my boots could stand on it, to where my fingers could rake through it. To where I could hold the gold; to where I could smell it. 

Aware of my weakness, I had to steady myself, grabbing onto Fili's arm as I did so. He did not notice, thankfully; merely his eyes remained straight ahead and at the lone figure of his uncle, a black speck among the glimmering gold.

"Gold," he was mumbling, his words carrying up to where we stood. "Gold beyond measure. Beyond sorrow and grief." The company's leader only then noticed us, looking up to where we stood high on a platform above him.

"Behold," he cried, "the great treasure horde of Thror." Then, with little warning, he raised his arm and threw something with all his might in our direction, only for Fili to deftly catch it. A ruby, a real ruby, bigger than my fist. The very sight of it, even amidst all the gold, made my knees tremble. But Oakenshield was not done.

"Welcome, my sister-sons," he announced, his voice booming across the cavern, "to the kingdom of Erebor." 

What a welcome.

The company's leader did not say anything to us then, merely turning his back onto us and his attention back to the gold. And who could blame him? My fingers itched, my skin felt clammy. I didn't realise how tight my grip on Fili's arm was until he turned silently and removed himself from it, slipping the ruby without words into my suddenly empty hands.

It was still warm from his touch, this gem that rested between both my hands. In the faint light of the chamber it glowed. I could not take my eyes off of it, enraptured by the blend of reds as the light touched it. Yet Fili did not remain to admire the jewel with me. He was already off, his back to his uncle and to the gold and to me, his brother and the others following him.

I weighed the ruby then in my hand. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever held: the largest jewel I had ever been able to touch. Yet in this room, a room full of treasure as far as the eye could see, it was only one rock among many, like a pebble on a beach. I thought of pocketing it, but the thing was too large to fit and I felt awkward enough, stood there, alone, holding it still.

Resigned, I turned and threw the jewel back into the gold pile, heard it land with a clunk among the coins. My hands felt achingly empty then. Turning, I shoved them into my pockets, and followed the others back up the stairs.


	18. Dragon-Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gold proves a little too tempting...

The hobbit led us back up the staircase, up a few flights, and then through some corridors. Erebor had lacked dwarven inhabitants for nearly two centuries - it was a dingy place, dark and abandoned. Some torches had been made and lit, fixed to long-disused sconces, yet it could not fend off the general bleakness that hung in the air. Perhaps the hobbit was right, perhaps a sickness did lie over the place. Or perhaps the thick, musty air was just making me on edge. I hadn't known what to expect from Erebor, perhaps a larger and more ornate version of Ered Luin. These few standing passageways hardly warranted songs.

Up ahead, walking beside the hobbit, Bofur was bombarding the halfling with dozens of questions; the hobbit struggled to keep up.

"They're all ok? Bombur? Bifur? Balin? Dwalin? Dori? Nori? Ori"

"Yes- yes, they're all fine-"

"Bombur didn't get hurt, did he? Did he get any burns? And Bifur, what about him? No more head wounds on him?"

"No, no-"

"And Balin? He's-"

"They're all alright!" the hobbit exclaimed, annoyed. "I keep telling you. No one was hurt. Not by the dragon. Not by anything!"

Bofur nodded, only to start up all over again, asking specific questions for each member of the company. The hobbit could only answer as best as he could until he finally brought us to a small cellar where the others were gathered.

"Balin!" Bofur was the first to spot the back of the older dwarf. He was met in welcome with an excited embrace from Dwalin as one by one the other dwarves reacted in joyful surprise to our evident survival.

I held back, finding myself somewhat hesitant to interrupt the greetings, but the others would not let me off so easily.

"You made it then?" Nori asked, having extracted himself from Fili and Kili's embraces.

"Just about," I retorted. "You'd have thought Smaug would have better taste."

"Eh, well, guess he prefers his meat less gristly." He hugged me anyway, a moment that we both found uncomfortable. He was then followed by Dori, who gave me an enthusiastic handshake, and little Ori, who gave me a surprisingly tight hug. Then came the others, one by one, dwarves I had known for only months, but who all seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being. I was pleased to see that they had all made it.

"Fought them off, did you, lass?" Dwalin said, slapping me proudly on the back. I gritted my teeth to hide the pain, my ribs still bruised from our fight with the orcs, a fight we were just recounting to the others over a bowl of stew and some long-brewed ale.

"'Course," I replied, "like you taught me." I didn't fall over then, at least not too much.

"Slippery bastards those orcs," Dwalin continued, turning his attention back to the others. He made a fist and smacked the old wooden table, dislodging two centuries of dust into the air. "Once we've settled the mountain, we must deal with them."

"If they don't deal with us first, brother." Ever the optimist, Balin eyed his brother and then the rest of us. "Once we have made work clearing the halls, we can summon our relatives back from the Blue Mountains. It'll be good to have a full mountain again."

His words made the stew catch in my throat. Clearing? I had thought my commitment over with the recapture of the mountain and the death of the dragon. I had not considered that I'd have to stay for the housekeeping.

"How bad is it?" Fili asked. He sat beside his brother, across the table from me. "We saw what was left of the entrance hall."

"It's not much worse than that," Balin replied. "The rubble just needs removing. I'm thinking more of the smaller halls. Where our people left behind belongings, food - where some of our people remain."

The dead still resided in the mountain? Again I found myself unable to swallow, dropping my spoon back into the bowl and pushing it, half empty, away from me. But, then again, what had I expected?

Anything, anything other than playing undertaker to a mountain full of corpses.

"Finish your dinner, lass," Balin said, noticing my distaste. "We won't start on that right away. And anyway, you'll need your strength."

"For what?" Kili asked. His appetite had come back with a vengeance. Either the thought of clearing up had not put him off or Balin's euphemism had flown straight over his head. His eyes were already on my half-finished meal and I pushed it towards him.

The other dwarves exchanged a look.

"Thorin has a task for us..." said Balin, ever the diplomat.

This was not what I had expected.

Knees deep in gold coins, I bent down and scooped up a handful, watching as riches beyond my dreams spilled out from between my fingers. The things I could buy with all this.

"Anything?" Kili voiced up, not too far away from where I stood, likewise fishing through the mass of coins.

"Nothing," I retorted, for the fifth time that hour. Yet it was not nothing - it was gold! Pure, beautiful gold. But in this sheer expanse of gold, these coins were worthless. They were not some legendary, luminous stone; a jewel that for hours Oakenshield had had us search for.

He was watching us from one of the higher levels, shouting out that none of us would rest until the Arkenstone was found. He had proved true to his word. Having not slept for a few nights, the search was taking its toil on me. I went to sit down on a stone rampart only to be yelled at by Oakenshield.

"Nithi, don't just sit there! Look!"

"Come on, lass," Dwalin, from across the cavern, shouted. "The sooner we find it."

I refused to get to my feet. The rampart was no more comfortable than the gold beneath it, but it took the weight off of my legs. Oakenshield continued to yell, Dwalin continued to shout, but I ignored the pair of them, deciding to use the quiet moment instead to pull up my tunic and check my healing bruises.

"Thorin," Balin called up, when finally the shouting became too much for him and the others. "It is past suppertime. Let us eat and sleep and we will look again on the morrow."

"We no longer have a dragon between us and the stone! Find it!" But Balin was already calling us off the search, telling the rest of us to go back to the cellar and to Bombur's makeshift kitchen. He meanwhile would go and talk to our king - a king who had been nothing but a real pain in the arse since he had reclaimed his kingdom.

Stiffly, I followed Gloin, Oin, and Ori back up the staircase. We had been beaten to Bombur's lair by the others, all already piling forward with their bowls. Bombur had done his best with what was left, but we would again be eating stew - a watered down version of our dinner.

Bleakly, I took my old seat at the table. My appetite had returned in the cavern, but again I found it to be short-lived. I pushed the slop around the bowl while the others finished theirs.

"Alright, Nithi?" Bofur asked, looking up from his own empty bowl. His eyes dropped to mine.

"Here." Again I pushed the bowl across, turning my back on the table just as Balin and Dwalin finally made their way into the cellar.

"Is Thorin coming?" It was Kili who asked, looking to the door behind the other two.

"Thorin's busy," Dwalin replied, in a manner that clearly stated the conversation was at an end. Busy rummaging through his gold? Busy guarding it from - well, what exactly? Even Nori and I, stupid as we had been in our last escapade in Ered Luin, knew not to risk pocketing even a piece of gold in this place. So much for having a claim to any part of it.

"Are we still searching tonight?" Ori piped up. There was a collective groan from around the table.

"Not tonight, lad," Balin said. "We'll sleep here and look again on the morrow."

It seemed that the cellar and the treasure room were the only two habitable rooms in the entire mountain. Not that I minded too much. I was exhausted and could just about face the three steps over to a corner where an old sack lay, the best I could do in this place for a blanket. The floor was solid stone, but I had slept on worse. Turning my back on the others, I closed my eyes and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

I was woken, as always, by a hand on my shoulder, roughly shaking me.

"What the -"

"Up now, lass." Dwalin said. "Busy day and all."

Another day, another unsuccessful attempt at finding the Arkenstone. Again, Balin had to plead with Oakenshield to grant us breaks for dinner and supper. We were filthy and exhausted by the time we reached the cellar for yet more watered-down stew, Oakenshield's angry ranting still ringing in our ears. I had never thought myself capable, especially after only a day and a half, but I was sick of the sight of gold.

As I slowly made my way through that day's slop, I caught Fili's gaze from across the table. Unlike the others, he was not trying to claim my supper, not that I would have given it away again. Rather his exhausted and annoyed expression must have mirrored my own.

While Kili had regained his former energy and spark, his brother seemed to be losing his the longer we spent in this place. He had barely uttered a word all day, not even in response to Oakenshield's questions. Rather Fili had continued searching in sullen silence, barely bothering to even look at his uncle.

I was not the only one to notice Fili's mood. After supper, Balin had pulled him aside and then sent him and his brother out of the cellar on some small mission of his.

Kili returned first, visibly quaking with excitement.

"Come on," he cried. "We've found something!"

"What?" From underneath a pile of sacks, Gloin sat up. "What have you found?"

Fili appeared then, his expression lighter than it had been for days.

"An armoury," he said. "Dusty, mind you, but there's plenty of stuff to go about."

There was a mixed response to this news. Some of the dwarves seemed excited by the discovery; the rest of us however were exhausted and wanted to rest instead.

"Anything good in there, lads?" Balin, still sat at the table, said.

"Swords, shields, armour, bows," Kili listed them off. "More than I've ever seen before."

"Good to know," Gloin grumbled, before turning back to his sacks.

"Leave it for now, lads," Balin said. "Sleep now and then tomorrow, you two can clear it."

And so, with that, the Durin brothers escaped Arkenstone duty - not that their absence went unnoticed.

"Where's Kili?" Oakenshield roared from his perch. "Where's Fili?"

"Clearing the eastern wing," Balin replied, calmly.

"We need all eyes in here!" All eyes on the Arkenstone!"

"Give the lads a day or two. They'll be back here before you know."

Again that night I returned to the cellar, dirty and tired. I chose to forego my evening bowl of brown water, choosing instead to sleep. My hands felt unclean, smelt strongly of old metal, and itched with their emptiness. I closed my eyes and even behind my eyelids, all I could see was gold.

That night I dreamt fitfully, recurring dreams of drowning under a thick wave of gold; a dream made ever more probable considering that we spent our days risking an avalanche of the stuff.

I woke before the others, before any rough hand could shake me awake. My stomach rumbled loudly as I sat up, my hands continued to stink. In the black of the night, I struggled to see, sleep still in my eyes. Without thinking, I stood up and left the cellar, treading on a few of the other dwarves as I did so, waking them also.

Used to the familiar path to the treasure room, I followed it easily enough, despite being half-asleep. Despite my nightmares, I found some strange comfort, basking in that golden glow. I stood where Oakenshield had earlier, high above it and high above the distant black speck that I assumed was our king among the treasure. From behind a pillar, I could admire the horde in relative privacy.

I did not know how many coins there were specifically in the chamber or their weight. All the floor was covered, and some more, yet I felt a sudden urge to count it all, every single coin, suddenly believing someone or something had taken some. The very thought made my skin crawl.

Holding onto the pillar for support, I leant over the edge, squinting down at the gold. One... two... three - no time. I would have to go down there and count each one myself. The stairs? No, no time. I needed to get down there and fast before any more coins could disappear.

Wondering whether I could survive a drop from this height onto a pile of coins, I leant only further, the floor seemingly closer to me than what it was. At best, I would protect the treasure. At worst, I would die from the impact and be swallowed by the gold. Somehow that did not seem like a bad way to die, nightmare or no.

"Nithi?" The voice brought me back from my thoughts, back from the gold. I turned, still holding onto the pillar, lips drawn into a snarl. A thief?

"What - what are you doing?" Fili asked. He looked as if he had not slept at all, as if he had been awake and about for hours. There was a heavy look to his eyes, a greenish pallor to his skin. "Can't you sleep?"

"No." Something in me clicked and I felt sudden revulsion at my previous thoughts. What in Durin's blessed name was I thinking? Throwing myself from such a height, even for a pile of gold? This place was getting to me, to all of us. I only had to look at Fili's drawn face to know I was not the only one. "I needed some air." Not that there was much of it here.

"I thought I heard voices in here," Fili continued, looking past me and out at all the gold. "I thought I heard wings and his voice. The dragon's, I mean. I thought-"

"You thought Smaug had come back?" He nodded, looked away.

We sat in silence awhile, staring out at the treasure. My fingers itched; my throat ached.

"Hit me," Fili finally broke the silence, with a request that left me dumbstruck.

"What?!"

"Hit me."

"Hit you?" Normally I wouldn't question such a demand, but it had been the last thing I had expected Fili to say to me. To ask me even. "Why the hell do you want me to do that?"

"Just do it," he replied, turning to me, gritting his teeth. "To the face."

"No."

"Please."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Then why?"

"Please," he begged. "Anything. Just please stop the noise. The buzzing."

That caught me. "You hear it too?"

He nodded, looked away. So I hadn't been imagining the low bee-like drone, a noise that rested at the back of my head since I had entered the mountain. Fili reminding me of it only made it louder.

As Fili looked away, out over the treasure horde, I pulled my hand back and swung.

My palm caught his cheek with a loud smack that seemed to echo throughout the cavern. 

Shocked, Fili turned to me, clutching his slapped cheek.

"You did ask!" I said, before he could complain. "Can you still hear the buzzing? Should I try again?" I went to raise my hand again, but Fili was quicker, snatching my wrists. He fell back, dragging me with him, the pair of us both laughing as we fell into a crumpled mess.

I tried to remove myself from his grip, not really wanting to; he continued to hold onto my arms, seemingly not wanting to let go. We rolled around, and we wrestled, like a pair of kittens with too much energy to spare. 

I proved the victor, breaking free from his hold. Victorious, I chose to cement my win by sitting on my opponent, my thighs straddling his chest. Breathless,red-faced, and still laughing, Fili could only lie there. He was already beginning to look like his old self. There was a look to his eyes, behind the tears of laughter, that I had seen before, but had never fully reciprocated before. A hand reached up, not to grab at my wrist again, but to stroke my cheek; a soft gesture for one whose hands had been hardened by our journeying. 

Pulling my hair aside, I leant down, conscious of just how close we were, how opportune this moment was. I wasn't too sure what I intended in the long-term, but, for then, I considered myself happy with just a quick snog. 

"Fili." Well, that nipped whatever that was in the bud. We both looked up, startled, to find Oakenshield looming over us. In our merriment, we had failed to hear him leave his gold.

"Uncle," Fili said, sitting up. Hastily, I rolled off of him, trying to keep what little of my remaining dignity intact. 

"Where's your brother?" Not 'what the hell are you two doing?'. 

"I haven't seen him. He was asleep when I left him."

Oakenshield harrumphed at that: "Fetch him then. I want to talk to you both. To show you something."

Still avoiding Oakenshield's gaze, I rose to my feet. 

"I'll get him," I said, not out of any kindness. I just wanted to leave this situation far, far behind. 

"Bring him to me," was all Oakenshield had to say, and I was excused.

Kili was already awake and about when I found him, wandering the staircase. 

"Hey, Nithi, have you seen Fili?" he called.

"He's with your uncle. I've been sent to get you." Kili may have known the way to the treasure room, but I could not face trying to direct him. Instead, I beckoned him to follow me.

Fili and Oakenshield were not where I had left them. I went to the edge of the platform and looked out, expecting to see two figures among the gold rather than one. The gold only shone uninterrupted. Neither uncle nor nephew were among it.

Just as I began to walk back, I caught a faint murmur of their voices from up above. Kili likewise heard them and he was already racing up a nearby staircase before I could say anything.

"... this throne. It belonged to your grandfather once, it should have gone to my father. Now, it is mine and, one day, it will be yours."

We followed the voices up to a platform set high above the treasure, at the very top of the staircase. Out of breath, both Kili and I struggled on, coming to a halt at the very end of the platform. Ahead of us was a throne atop the platform and carved into a supporting plinth. Beneath it was Fili and his uncle, their backs to us. Beside them on either side were two sharp drops and beneath us... well, my stomach turned at the thought.

"It is quite something to look at, uncle." Ever the diplomat.

"It is not enough!" The previous monotone stillness to Oakenshield's voice disappeared entirely. We watched from afar as he jabbed his arm upwards towards the throne, his finger pointed.

"You see?! You see?! We are missing the Arkenstone. The stone rested above my grandfather's head, set into the throne." His shouts echoed across the cavern, likely through the mountain.

Fili tried to sooth his furious uncle; we watched him reach out to him.

"You do not need it, uncle. You are king. You can rule without it."

That was when Oakenshield rounded on him.

"Do not tell me what I need, boy," he hissed. "While you waste your time, cavorting with common thieving whores-" So he had seen us then... "- your great-grandfather's stone, MY stone, YOUR inheritance, lies lost to us. You do not deserve this. You do not deserve any of this. You are not worthy of it." 

"Uncle-" Before Fili could say anything more, Oakenshield's arm shot out, grabbing his nephew by the throat. Fili was no lightweight, but his uncle lifted him easily, all the while as Fili's legs and arms thrashed helplessly. 

"Uncle, no!" 

Kili and I surged onwards, tearing across the platform towards the two figures. Oakenshield seemed to have forgotten about summoning his younger nephew, so determined that he was to punish the elder. He released Fili from his grip easily, turning his back onto his kinsman, who was choking and clutching at his own throat.

"Thorin!" We were not alone. From the other end of the platform, Balin, Dwalin, and the hobbit emerged. "Thorin, no!" 

The dwarf king had returned to his seat, sat atop his throne as if nothing had just happened. 

"Go!" he barked at us, as Kili and I reached Fili. "Leave me."

Willingly. Fili was left visibly shaken, but unhurt, at least unhurt enough to turn and storm away, away from his uncle and away from the throne. 

As Dwalin and the hobbit continued onwards towards Oakenshield, Balin looked over Kili and I, his own anguish clear on his pale features.

"Are you both -"

"We're fine," I snapped, looking past him towards Fili's retreating back.

"Good, good," he said, before lowering his voice. He too looked behind him, watching the prince disappear. "Follow him, please. Keep him away from Thorin for now. We'll talk to him. Keep Fili inside the mountain. I'll find you all later."

We found Fili about to leave the mountain, from the point in which we had entered it. The golden-haired prince was sat atop a mound of debris, where the wall of the entrance hall had been torn out by the dragon. He did not look up when we called his name, rather stared resolutely ahead, out of the mountain and up towards the sky.

"Fee, come down," Kili called, but his brother continued to ignore him. "Come down!"

Finally, Fili conceded. He climbed down the boulder, landing with a small thump beside us. 

He may have done his best to brush tears away before he climbed down, but it was clear from his red eyes and wet cheeks that Fili had been crying. He avoided our eyes, avoided our questions, but rather walked over to a remaining plinth. Then, without warning, he punched the solid stone with all the force he could muster.

"Fee, no!" Kili raced forwards, but his brother knocked him out of the way, continuing to beat the stone with all his might. The stone remained solid, but Fili's fists were not so lucky. They were bleeding by the time Kili grabbed ahold of his arms and pulled him back; by the time I was able to grab his face and make him look at me.

"Fili? Fili?" I cried. "No, no more." The fight went out of him then and the older brother crumpled into the younger. Kili and I, wordlessly, shocked by what we had just witnessed, helped settle him down, bringing him to the gap in the wall where the breeze was somewhat pleasant and the sunlight a nice change. 

Remembering what Oin had done all those long days ago by the lake, I ripped at the bottom of my tunic. The old, smelly thing was far from clean, but it would have to do. I wrapped each of his bloody fists up, continuing to hold his battered hands even after I was done. Fili all the while was silent, staring ahead. To my surprise, he did not make any attempt to leave, but rather remained where he was, caught between the outer world and his cursed inheritance.

After awhile, Kili had wandered ahead, across the bridge to where the Desolation begun, on the pretext of needing to stretch his legs. Beside me, Fili began to stir, as if waking from a particularly nasty waking nightmare.

"Nithi?" he whispered, confused.

"Mmhmm?" I replied. 

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For that."

I shrugged: "We all have our moments."

Fili seemed somewhat reassured by that. 

"Still hear the buzzing?" I asked. "You know... I could always knock it out of you."

"Not so much here," he replied. "I think its the mountain. There's something... strange about it."

"You mean the smell? And there was me thinking it was just Kili..." That earned me a small smile and five minutes of silence.

"I should go," he eventually said, moving to his feet. The sun by then had reached midpoint - midday. "Before I lose the light."

"You can't leave!"

"I can't stay! Each day the buzzing gets louder. What if I..." he paused. "What if I end up like..." Like his uncle.

"You won't," I said, seizing his hand. "I'll knock some sense into you if I have to." From the corner of my eye, I spotted Kili running back up towards us. "And if I don't, then your brother certainly will."

Another small smile. I fought the strange sensation of finishing what we had started earlier - to hell with Oakenshield and his madness! - but there was no point now. Fili was still shaken, loath though he was to admit it. And Kili was just about to join us again.

"Guys," he panted, out of breath from his run. "Guys... people."

"People?"

"... Laketown... The people... They're coming here."


	19. Enemies Within and Without

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some debts accrued along the way get called in.

There was no way I could face telling Oakenshield about the refugees, no more than Fili and Kili dared to. It was to Balin we turned to, finding him sat alone with only the hobbit for company in what must have once, a long time ago, been some clerk's office.

"He'll have to know. We'll have to tell him," he said, once we had finished. He must have caught my expression as he sighed: "I know what happened up in the throne room was-"

"Was what?!" I found myself snapping at him. "He would have thrown Fili off of the edge if we hadn't arrived when we did!"

Fili, ever the diplomat, despite his bloodied and bandaged knuckles, said, "He is not himself." That was putting it lightly.

"I know, lad, I know," Balin said. He sniffed and that was when I realised the older dwarf had been crying, tear stains running like snail tracks down his cheeks. The sight made me uncomfortable in ways I could not describe. If Balin was losing hope in Oakenshield, the prince he had so willingly followed, so lovingly talked about in his story of Azalnulbizar, then what hope was there for the rest of us?

"How many survivors were there?" Disconcerted as he was, Balin was as practical as ever. "How many did survive?" 

I thought then to the people crowding on the beach, the angry townspeople who had lost everything in a night and a blaze of dragon fire. I thought then to the bodies and the debris in the lake - too many to count, too many to put a name to.

"Enough," Kili, the one who had spotted them reaching Dale, answered. "A hundred maybe. Two hundred more likely. They were struggling. Many were injured."

Balin nodded. Sometime in all this the hobbit had left the office and Dwalin had appeared, leaning against the doorframe, watching us and his brother.

"Brother," Balin called, not even having to look to recognise Dwalin's presence. "Inform our king that the survivors from Laketown are coming into Dale. A few hundred of those who lived."

Dwalin let out a low whistle, but did as he was told. Balin leant back in his chair and folded his arms.

"And now we wait," he said, as much to himself as to the rest of us.

"To the gate! To the gate!" The roar of the dwarven king, not too long after, brought us all back to the then and now. I didn't know how long we had stood in that office in silence surrounding Balin, arms folded, each absorbed with our own thoughts. Enough time for Dwalin to have reached Oakenshield and shared the bad news.

Fili and Kili both started at their uncle's voice. As if responding to some natural instinct, they moved towards the door, instinctively following their elder's orders. Before he could slip from my reach, I grabbed Fili's arm, careful to avoid his sore hands.

"Don't go to him," I whispered. "Don't do what he says. Not after what he did." I had kept my eyes low until then, scared to see how he would respond to my concern, but then I took a peek. Perhaps it was anger that I had hoped to see - even if it was anger directed at me for making such a suggestion rather than anger rightfully targeted against his maddened uncle - but what I saw was scarier still. Fili gazed down at me in complete resignation, before pulling himself free from my grip.

"I must," he replied. "He's my uncle."

I should have screamed then - Mahal knew I wanted to - at his stupid obedience. But who was I to stop him? I was nothing to him, whereas Kili and Oakenshield were his family, were his life.

I watched him leave in silence, following his brother, following his uncle. I had forgotten that Balin was still in the room, until a gentle hand settled on my shoulder.

"He's as stubborn as Thorin," he said, "and as loyal as he was too." He did not need to say it, but I could hear the warning in his words: do not try to turn Fili against Oakenshield, no matter how much of a gold-struck fool he had become and no matter how much I wanted to.

"And will he- Will Fili be as... As Oakenshield is? With the gold?" I thought then to our encounter in the treasure room before Oakenshield had spoiled it. The sheer ecstasy we had felt playing in the gold. The emptiness I felt at being apart from it. There was few I could turn to and Balin was no more blind to what Oakenshield had become as the rest of us if his tears were anything to go by.

"Only time will tell, lass. Only time will tell."

Both Balin and I struggled our way through the debris of the entrance hall to where the other dwarves had gathered at the gaping hole in the mountain's front. It seemed the search for the Arkenstone was off the menu for that night. Already armed, already prepared, Oakenshield was marching among the others. If the sky outside the hole was anything to go by, a good deal of the day had passed and it was already afternoon. It seemed we had a long night ahead of us if the task at hand was anything to go by.

I spotted Fili among the debris, not that he was ever hard to miss. The others, those who had missed Oakenshield's little... scene earlier, seemed oblivious to any tension between uncle and nephew. Perhaps I was reading too much into Fili's stand, the guarded way in which he folded his arms across his chest, keeping his bandaged hands tucked away and out of sight. He stood beside his brother and somewhat behind him. Perhaps that was more Kili's doing than his brothers. While Fili seemed to do all he could to avoid his uncle's gaze, Kili was actively encouraging it: chin up, face defiant. If Fili was unwilling to bring his uncle to account, then perhaps I had an ally in the other Durin prince.

"What you staring at?" As ever, it was Nori's charming voice that brought me back to my senses.

"Nothing."

The three-pronged and far-too-groomed fool moved to stand beside me, not even hiding his nosy delight in trying to figure out the direction of my interest. 

"What are you looking at - Ah," he said, finally catching on. If only I could knock that wide grin from his idiot face. "Undressing Kili, I see."

"Undressing? You been drinking the toilet water again, you piece of - you son-of-an-elf-"

"With your eyes like." My insult earned me a shove that I was all too eager to reciprocate. "Isn't he a bit young for you?"

"I wasn't looking at Kili," I hissed, before realising my mistake. Nori, for all his stupidity, was someone who was used to catching a person's bluff. His grin only grew sickeningly wider.

"Fili then? I never knew you had a thing for blondes-"

Whatever he was about to say was silenced by my boot landing with a great deal of force onto his own foot. His boots were weaker than my own and there was an audible crunch. His howl of pain silenced the others, drew their looks into our direction.

"Oh, damn," I said, loudly, throwing my arm over Nori's shoulder. "I'm so clumsy. Sorry, Nori."

I wasn't very believable, but I was not trying to be. 

"Enough!" Oakenshield shouted, from somewhere across the rubble. Nori, cursing and hopping, pushed me away. The others turned back to the task at hand.

"Take this," Oakenshield ordered, gesturing to the debris and rock shards littered across the floor, "and fix that." He gestured to the hole in the wall. I followed his gaze, aghast. Masonry and stonework were skills that were not a part of my repertoire. 

Yet it was certainly easier than searching for the Arkenstone. 

From what scraps we had found in the storeroom: rope, cloth, and the like, we fashioned pulleys and such. Those who had experience of crafts, like Bofur and Bifur, took to the walls, whereas the rest of us set about gathering the debris and hauling it up to them. Kili, having at some point scoured the mine, found a wagon and it was with this that we loaded and transported some of the larger pieces of rock and stone. 

Oakenshield as ever chose not to put his own back into the work, but rather stand on the sidelines and shout at us. Whatever we did, however fast we worked, however many stones we lifted... it was not enough. Nothing could satisfy the dwarf king.

"I want this fortress made safe by sun-up. This mountain was hard won. I will not lose it again," he roared on one occasion.

It was at that point, after hours of work, that Kili lost his temper.

"The people of Laketown have nothing," he spat at his uncle, dumping the wagon he pushed. "They came to us in need. They have lost everything and instead we bar them from our gates and leave them to the cold."

The others paused at that and left their work to watch. From by the wall, I watched a particularly anxious-looking Fili stop dead in his tracks as his little brother turned on their uncle.

"Do not tell me what they have lost," Oakenshield spat back. "I know well enough their hardship. Those who have lived through dragonfire should rejoice. They have much to be grateful for."

Kili could not find any response to that, but rather shot a sour look at his uncle and turned his back to him. I had not realised that I had been holding in my breath throughout the entire scene until that moment. Finally exhaling, sensing the danger having passed, I turned and caught Fili's gaze. My own relief was shared, it seemed.

Night fell, the braziers were lit, and yet we still continued to work. I stopped momentarily, to wipe the sweat from my face with the sleeve of my tunic, only to find Oakenshield's enraged glare on my back when I thought to turn around. I scowled back, only to be shoved to the side by Dwalin.

"Enough of that now, lass, or the wind'll change and your face with it," he growled. "You'd curdle milk with a face like that." That did not improve my mood.

Kili was likewise struggling. With each successive load he wheeled, the quieter and angrier the dwarf prince became. I found myself avoiding Oakenshield, avoiding Dwalin, and falling into line with him.

"We need to think of something," I whispered.

"Think of what?"

"Anything. To stop this getting any more messed up than it is."

"He's our leader."

"And we're following him blindly to our destruction," I hissed. "He would have us barricade ourselves in and starve to death rather than spend a penny."

"He'd turn his back on those who need him. The people of Laketown."

"Them too," I said, impatiently. Although, the more I thought of it, the more reluctant I was to give the people of Laketown our gold. Just the thought of the treasure room brought the low buzzing back to my ears, made a cold sweat form on my back. That gold did not belong to them.

I shook my head, hard until the buzzing stopped and my head began to ache. I left Kili to his wheelbarrow and to his thoughts and moved away, back towards the hole and towards the outside. The air helped me think straight. 

The night dragged on and, by the time the sun rose in the east, we had finished the hole in the wall. With Bombur having been working on the wall all night, there was no breakfast waiting for us and, as there was no one else to guard the wall, we could hardly leave it to go to sleep. We were too tired to set a rota for duty, none of us willing to offer to cover it. 

The view from the ramparts, once reached, was quite something, even through sleep-deprived eyes. It was to the ramparts we had all gone and it was a view we all shared. We could see the ruins of Dale, the mountains to the far east, and, further beyond, the distant ruins of Laketown, smoke still rising over the lake. From Erebor, we could make out distant lights from within the depths of Dale and figures... a lot more figures than we had expected.

"What is that?" I whispered.

"An army," Balin replied, gravely.

"The men of Dale?" Ori said.

"I wish," Balin sighed. The refugees could not have hoped for such armour. "That there is an elven army and it is not one comprising of the elves of Rivendell."

Mirkwood? I stared at them from afar until my eyes went blurry and watered. I thought back to the words of the skin-changer: 'less wise and more dangerous'. I thought again of their prison, deep within the earth and their forest, and of them chasing us down the river. This time we would not be so lucky to leave the encounter alive. We really had followed Oakenshield blindly to our own destruction.

The sight of the elves, no matter how far away, was enough to set Oakenshield off again. He stormed across the ramparts, barking a rapid succession of orders and swearing a whole host of oaths. Angry though he was, there was a moment of distraction, when he stopped barking. This moment lasted only as long as it took for him to take a lone black bird from Balin's reluctant arm and to release it, towards the east. Where even had he found a bird?

"A rider!" Kili, with the best eyes of us all, was the first to spot the solitary figure, riding up the road towards the mountain. At once, the tiredness was forgotten, and we inched to the rampart's side, expecting what exactly... imminent attack?

"Hail Thorin, son of Thrain!" It was the bargeman, Bard. It was good to see a familiar and a somewhat-friendly face out of the alliance of Mirkwood elves and Laketown refugees. He brought his white horse up to the mountain's entrance as close as he would dare to. "We are glad to find you alive beyond hope," he added.

"Why do you come to the gates of the king under the mountain armed for war?" Oakenshield retorted. 

"Why does the king under the mountain fence himself in? Like a robber in his hole," was the bargeman's response.

"Perhaps it is because I am expecting to be robbed."

"My lord! We have not come to rob you, but to seek fair settlement. Will you not speak with me?" Bard said, and, to our surprise, Oakenshield agreed. He took the bargeman to one side of the ramparts, leaving the rest of us to talk among ourselves.

"Do you think he means to settle peace?" Gloin said.

"Only if such a peace comes without him losing a single coin from his treasure," Balin replied, grimly.

"We cannot just stand about and wait for the elves to attack!" Dori snapped. "We are few and we cannot take on the might of an elven-king and his army alone. We should find a way out of the mountain and make our own peace before we risk our own necks."

That proved to be a divisive statement. None of us seemed willing to fight an entire elf army, but not all of us were willing to abandon the mountain and its king to do so.

"You would betray your own kin?" Dwalin snarled, rounding on Dori. Dori looked set to hold his ground, but Ori was in front of him and pushing the larger dwarf away. "Your king?"

"You cannot deny that he is not himself anymore. He is not the same dwarf who led us here!"

"Everything we fought for. Everything our ancestors and kin died for. You'd exchange it all for your own scrawny neck?"

"Dori's right," Gloin snapped. "My family lived and died in this mountain, but I have another family now and one waiting for me to come home to them in the Blue Mountains. This foolhardiness has gone on long enough."

Dwalin looked set to hit him had Balin not grabbed his arm. 

"Enough!" he cried, but the senior dwarf proved to have little say. We were all tired, all fed up, all terrified, and all willing to be at each other's throats.

"Thorin seeks to turn on his word," Kili shouted, above the din of the others. "He seeks to make us all oathbreakers with him."

"You say that of your own uncle, lad?" Dwalin exclaimed in disgust. 

"Kili, no," Balin said, equally disgusted.

Fili looked between his brother and the older dwarves. Taking a deep breath, he stepped in front of Kili and faced both Dwalin and Balin.

"What Kili says of Thorin is not a betrayal of him," he said, "but you yourself stood in Laketown when Thorin gave his word. Gave our word."

"So you'd choose a group of humans who would sooner have watched you burn with their town and the elf that turned his back on our people?"

"I did not say that!" Fili snapped, his cheeks reddening. 

"You didn't need to."

It was then that whatever civility had held us all apart broke loose. I found myself being shoved forwards by Nori, who seemed willing to keep the mountain's gold at the expense of his brother's suggestion.

"Get off of me!" I yelled, before pushing the older dwarf back, this time into Bifur. I then found myself caught up in a rather bad-mouthed Khuzdul argument.

"Follow your fool king," I spat at Bifur and Nori, after a few choicer phrases were passed, slurring between the Common Tongue and Khuzdul dialect of the Blue Mountains. "You can both kiss my arse and his. I'm not staying around for your funeral-"

"Enough!" It was the hobbit this time and, despite his small size, his voice carried the loudest. That caught my words in my mouth. "We cannot deal with this matter when we are at each other's throats."

His suggestion was fair, especially considering that Dwalin was literally at the throats of two dissenting dwarves, and looked set to knock a third, Gloin, off of the ramparts. Fili was holding Kili back as Bombur held Bofur back. I myself had a handful of Nori's hair and was not letting go.

"Let us see what terms Thorin comes to with Bard. Bard kept us at Laketown and he protected some of us from the dragon. If Thorin has any sense of reason left, he will come to these terms."

The hobbit was far too optimistic. It seemed that barely another minute had passed, but Oakenshield was storming back and the bargeman was riding off back towards Dale in a huff.

"Be gone!" Oakenshield roared after him. "Before our arrows fly and hit your cowardly behind-"

We could only watch, aghast, as this scene played out. My grip loosened and Nori freed himself, rubbing his scalp and scowling at me. Despite our momentary differences, we were watching our last chance at making it out of this mountain alive ride away. Even the hobbit appeared to have lost his patience with Oakenshield, when moments ago he had been so optimistic.

"What are you doing?" he snapped. "You cannot go to war. We will not survive this."

"This does not concern you," Oakenshield replied, coolly, looking set to walk past the hobbit without another look.

"Excuse me?!" the hobbit exclaimed. "But, just in case you haven't noticed, there is an army of elves out there, not to mention several hundred angry fishermen. We are in fact outnumbered."

It was then that Oakenshield surprised us, breaking out into a grin.

"Not for much longer," he said, before looking towards the east.

"What does that mean?" the hobbit said.

"It means, Master Baggins, you should never underestimate dwarves," he said, and then his expression hardened again. He turned to the rest of us and scowled. "We have reclaimed Erebor and now we defend it."

He waved a hand towards the others: the signal. Along with rebuilding the wall, Oakenshield had ordered Gloin and some of the others to work away at one of the giant statues beside the bridge entrance to Erebor. 

Gloin's step was reluctant as were the others who helped him. Pushing at the statue with Kili's wheelbarrow, now loaded with remaining debris found on the ramparts, the statue wobbled and its head, loosened over the space of the night, fell, crashing into the bridge beneath it. 

"With what, Thorin? We defend the mountain with what?" Balin said, his weariness all but dripping from his words. "The bridge gives us time, but not much-"

But the dwarf king was deaf to his concerns and turned instead inside and, no doubt, towards his precious treasure.

The feeling among us dwarves was not a good one. There was little chance and little wish to reconcile and harsh looks were exchanged. It seemed our little party had split, between those loyal still to Thorin and his whims (Dwalin, Balin, perhaps the hobbit) and those who would sooner save their bacon (Dori, Gloin, and myself, I have to admit). And between these opposites, the others stood, all uncertain where their loyalties remained.

Wishing to be left alone for a time, I turned inwards. We had not arranged guard duty and I did not want to wait around long enough to be assigned a post. I was rather hoping to find a quiet little corner in which I could settle down and sleep my troubles away.

If only I could have been so lucky.

I had barely made it out of the entrance hall, when Oakenshield was shouting for us all to gather again. It seemed that if we were to be heading to war, we needed to be suited and booted for it.

The armoury that Kili had found a few days ago was well stocked, but not well stocked enough. Most of the goods lay under thick covers of dust and the metal beneath it was in need of a good clean and then a good deal of sharpening. 

The forge was lit, as were the braziers. Cloth was found, as was oil, and we set about restoring the armour of the old in the hope that it would protect the new.

I found a decent enough sword within the room, although it was nowhere near as pretty as the one the elves had taken from me. The style of it was dwarven and reminded me of Fili's swords. The balance felt off in my hands and it took me a few practice swings before I could feel comfortable with it. 

The shields were likewise stylised and not like the old round, battered one that had once belonged to my father. They were made of metal, by the smiths of the mountain, and were as weighty and cumbersome as the sword. 

I raised the shield up, holding it over me, pretending an elf loomed over. I swung around, my imaginary assailant now at my back, and drew my sword. 

"Du bekar," I whispered, before jumping forward and striking my invisible assailant through the middle. 

"Not bad." It seemed that I had attracted an audience.

"Just practicing," I grumbled, my cheeks flushing. I straightened myself up and lowered my weapon, any thought of further practice having long since passed. "Found anything?"

"Not as good as my old ones," Fili said, holding out a similar-looking sword to my own. "But it'll do." He said that to me from somewhere beneath a large helmet. As he gestured with his sword, his helmet rolled forward and he was temporarily blinded. He pushed the large and well-decorated thing hastily back, but it seemed that I was not the only one left red-faced by our encounter.

"You may need a smaller helmet," I said, trying my hardest not to laugh. "Or a bigger head."

Quicker than I would have liked, Fili had pulled his helmet off and had shoved it onto my own head, back-to-front of course, just to be petty. I had by this point lost my resolve and my laughter was echoing around my armoured head.

I sensed him about to hit the helmet as if to clang a bell, but I blindly launched myself at him, laughing all the while, trying to wrestle his armoured arms down. He must have been laughing himself, but, under the helmet, the noise was only muffled, hidden under my own.

A strong hand grasped me by the shoulder and the helmet was pulled off in one move. Dwalin frowned down at me and held the offending helmet in his hands. Fili had long since stopped laughing. Recalling their fight only moments before, he stared up at the older dwarf grimly.

"This is not the time for fooling around," Dwalin snarled, before turning the helmet around in his hands and then slamming it - and in no way gently - back down onto my head. "Suit yourself up and be quick about it. Or you'll face Thranduil on the walls in your tunic and breeches."

I pulled myself away from the older dwarf and, once free of his grip, was not too scared to scowl at him myself. Dwalin seemed unfazed at my anger, but rather pushed me aside and went back to his own acquisitions. 

The fun had been fleeting and was gone as quickly as it came. Fili went back to going through a stack of swords and I went back to looking through plates of recently polished armour.

The process was long, but in time we found ourselves dressed, if not ready, for battle. The dwarf armour, plate upon plate upon plate, all long cast, was heavy and cumbersome. Beneath the various plated parts, I wore a shirt of maille that only seemed to further weigh me down.

I was no warrior and would never prove to be much of one at this rate. A strong gust of wind would likely have sent me crashing to the ground, but that mattered not. In all of this, no elven sword or arrow could surely pierce me. I just had to find the strength to remain upright.

"My warriors," Oakenshield all but crowed as we stepped out of the armoury in line. Beside him, the hobbit stared ashen-faced at us, from beneath a shirt of mithril. "You will make your ancestors proud this day."

My ancestors may have been proud at the sight of me struggling under the weight of all of their armour, but my descendants were more crucially at risk. 

A guard duty had been arranged, if only for the remainder of that day and night, and, having not been around to have my say, I had been nominated for the first shift. Struggling to walk and struggling to keep my eyes open, I could only scowl (not that it proved effective beneath my giant helmet) and make my way up to the ramparts in silence.

The day was long and the enemy did not prove very exciting. I watched, wearily, as hours passed and the elven army settled into Dale. My eyes strained to make out exactly what they were doing in the weak sunlight, but it looked like they were setting up tents and practicing drills. At least when my death would come it would come in an orderly fashion.

Bofur's arrival signalled the end of my shift and I returned to the store room to find that Bombur had made yet more watery stew. I had not eaten in over a day and my rumbling stomach had kept me company throughout my watch, but, with the first bite, I felt my appetite fade away. All I could think of was the elves at our gates, the reflection of their armour in the weak winter sunlight. My stomach flipped.

I made it out of the storeroom and to a balcony overlooking the stairs in time, but I needn't have worried. There was nothing to bring up, despite my nerves trying. I took a couple of deep breaths, removed my helmet, and took myself down the stairs.

I had hoped to find some solitude down in the depths of the mountain, but I was proved wrong. I could hear mumbling ahead, whispers and snarls, and footsteps echoing.

Before I could make a hasty retreat, Oakenshield appeared at the bottom of the stairs, in the midst of a frantic and whispered conversation with himself. He seemed as taken aback as I was to bump into him.

"Nithi?" he said, almost sounding like his former self, shocked seemingly at my appearance in full armour. "What are you doing here?"

Before I could come up with an excuse, his face suddenly changed, twisting almost into a snarl.

"THIEF!" he shouted, at the top of his lungs. "THIEF!"

If ever there was a signal to beat a hasty retreat, that was it. I turned quickly and went to make my way back up the stairs, but I lost my balance under the weight of all of the armour. Tumbling forward, I fell to my knees, sliding down the remaining stairs in a sequence of painful crashes and landed in a crumpled heap at Oakenshield's feet. My helmet fell out of my arms and rolled away.

"I should have known all along," he hissed down at me, as I lay winded before him. I struggled to get up, but there was little point in me doing so. His shouts had reached the others and already I could hear the others rushing down the stairs.

"What is it, Thorin?" As my luck would have it, it was Dwalin who reached Oakenshield first. The older dwarf was breathless from his run, but not as breathless as I was, still clutching at my sore chest.

"I have found the thief," Oakenshield said. I waited for him to grab me, to kick me, to hit me, but no blows came. It seemed as if I was so far beneath him to be worth hurting.

I managed to drag myself, one-handed, up into a sitting position. My brains felt like they had been tossed about like a barrel in a river and I could only clutch my head queasily and look up at Dwalin with a pitiful expression.

To give credit where credit was due, Dwalin seemed hesitant to believe Oakenshield's proclamation. He looked grimly between me and his king.

"What has been stolen?"

"I wondered why it was taking so long for us to find the Arkenstone," Oakenshield said. "And then I began to ponder... what if there is one among us who would not wish the Arkenstone to be found? One devious and troublesome enough to take the stone for herself, perhaps even to sell to those who it does not belong to."

"I didn't take the stone," I snapped, having since caught my breath. I looked past Dwalin to where the others, all except for Bofur, still on guard at the wall, had gathered on the stairs. At the very top of the stairs, Fili looked down on the scene with a grim expression. Would he believe his uncle?

"Liar," Oakenshield hissed, and rounded back onto me. "Do you deny being a thief?"

"No." I could not deny that. Oakenshield may not have known about me pinching Fili's bead, but he knew of my past, knew of my capabilities. "I didn't steal your stone though!"

"Lies. Where is it?"

"Where's what?" My head did not feel too good.

"The stone. The Arkenstone. My stone."

"I haven't got your bloody stone!"

"Where is it?"

"Beats me."

"Where?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" 

"Liar."

"Fool."

And, with that, Oakenshield launched himself at me, his sword suddenly in his hand. 

I had been expecting my end to come at the hands of an elf, perhaps even an angry former resident of Laketown, but I had not imagined that it would come at the hands of my gold-sick king. It was fortunate for me that Dwalin was standing where he was at the time and that he, unlike me, could keep his balance in his armour.

"Thorin!" he cried, jumping between me and Oakenshield and grabbing the king's sword arm, all the while I could only scuttle backwards out of Oakenshield's reach. "What are you doing?"

"Liar!" Oakenshield roared. "Thief!"

"I didn't steal it!" I shouted, scrambling back up to my feet and backing away.

"Take her!" Oakenshield continued to shout, making himself go red in the face, as Dwalin and then Kili struggled to restrain him.

The shock of his outburst was beginning to fade away, replaced with a sudden white burst of anger.

"You want some truths?" I snarled, taking a step forward and only causing Oakenshield to strain harder against the other two dwarves. "I'll give you some truths. You have lost your mind!"

"Nithi." Balin was suddenly at my side and he stood between Oakenshield and me. "Don't."

"I'm only saying what we've all been thinking!" 

"Nithi."

"Don't 'Nithi' me. He should hear this." 

"Take her," Oakenshield continued to roar. "Search her. Find the stone and bring it to me. Throw her from the ramparts when you're done." 

That was enough to silence me.

"No!" I cried. "No, don't throw me. Please."

Balin looked from me to Oakenshield and then back to me. He sighed.

"Fili, grab her," he said.

"What?" It was my time to roar. I had not noticed Fili make his way down the stairs, but suddenly he was at my back and was pulling my arms behind me. "Get off of me!" I screamed, as he pulled me back. "Get away from me! No! I didn't do it, I swear."

"Take her somewhere to quieten down," Balin said, softly, barely loud enough for me to hear, before saying in a louder voice. "Take her away and search her. As the king orders."

Thinking I had misheard Balin's first statement, I continued to fight back. 

"You can't do this!" I shouted, before turning to look at the others still watching the scene, wordlessly, on the stairs. "Don't let them do this to me."

"Stop it, Nithi," Fili whispered, into my ear, but I was beyond caring. I went to boot him in his shins, but his own armour took the brunt of it. With me still struggling, he pulled me back, away from his uncle and away from the others.

To my relief, it was not to the ramparts that he took me, but rather deeper into the mountain. I wasn't sure exactly where we were going - I was still upset and still fighting him - until we reached the corridor that led to the armoury. I recognised that bit, even if I did not recognise the small and dark chamber off of it where Fili eventually released me.

Once free, I spun and went to make a break for it, but Fili had anticipated that and caught me easily around the middle.

"Let me go!" I continued to shout, even if only into his breastplate. "Let me out of here."

"No," Fili grunted. Even with his own strength, he was struggling to hold me back. "Not until you calm down."

"Let me at him!"

"And watch you get thrown off of the ramparts? No."

That stopped me in my tracks. I stopped fighting and pulled myself back, looking up at him.

"You believe me, don't you? I didn't steal the Arkenstone."

Fili paused at that, for an uncomfortably long moment. 

"Yes," he said, finally. "I believe you."

I couldn't really explain how much of a relief that was. I was still in denial of my feelings and still in denial about just how important Fili's opinion was to me. Yet I was still angry and, here in the depths of the mountain, the only one around for a tongue-lashing was unfortunately Fili.

"Then go and tell your uncle that!"

"And be thrown off of the ramparts after you? No."

I snorted at that, incredulous. 

"Coward," I spat.

"Nithi." His tone was low; I was on dangerous ground.

"You know as well as I do, as well as any of us, that Thorin has gone mad. That he will see us all put to the sword before he would even dare let a coin be lost from this mountain. And yet you do nothing about it."

It was Fili's turn to round on me.

"What can I do about it?!" he roared, and his sudden burst of anger was enough to shock me into silence. "He is my uncle! He is my king!"

"He'd kill you if he knew you broke his orders about me." The steely edge to Fili's expression reminded me of something - it was a look I had seen before, only days before. It had been when the dragon was loose and heading for Laketown; when he had offered to stay with his brother, even with the oncoming threat of a fiery death, so that the rest of us could escape. "You know that though," I added. "You'd die for him. You'd let him kill you."

The truth hung over us like a heavy fog. Fili could not deny it, nor could he hold my gaze. He went to turn away.

"But you wouldn't let him kill Kili, would you?" That stopped him in his tracks. 

"No," he whispered, his back still to me.

"You self-sacrificing bastard," I spat. "You'd happily die and..." I had to stop myself then. The shock of it all, the rush of emotion, was bringing a familiar heat to my eyes. "And I don't want you to," I said, and, to my utter mortification, my voice broke. 

He turned then, the shock evident on his face.

"What did you say?"

Maker's breath, he wanted me to repeat myself.

"I don't want you to die!" I snapped, angry tears pricking at my eyes. "I don't want you to die, Fili! Not for Kili. Especially not for Oakenshield. Not for anyone. I just want you to be... alive. To survive this."

"You feel like that?"

"Yes."

"How long?" Maker's breath, more questions.

"A while," I snapped, not that I knew the answer myself. Somewhere along the line, the pieces had fitted together. 

He reached out then and rubbed a tear away with a coarse thumb.

"You're telling me this now?" he said, with a low chuckle, as if he hardly dared to believe it. "With an army at our gates?"

I let out a shaky laugh myself.

"Yeah, I know my timing's off." His palm remained pressed to my cheek and my own hand rose to stroke it. Perhaps he thought I meant to push it away as he stiffened, but rather I held it there. His hand fitted perfectly over my cheek.

"Whatever happens tomorrow," he said, and, despite his smile, beneath his own tears, the steel blazed still in his eyes. "Whatever happens, if it comes to it, I will die. For my family."

I went to pull away, but he was quicker: grabbing my other cheek if only to hold me in place, if only to hold my gaze.

"And you'll let me."

"I won't," I spat.

"And you'll live," he said.

Years of self-preservation had brought me this far, but I was beginning to see that tomorrow promised little beyond it. Perhaps, rather than seeking, as ever, to live a little longer, I'd have to live for then.

"How?"

"We'll find a way."

"We won't."

"Nithi, please."

"No," I said, firmly, and I firmly pushed him away from me. "If you can choose when to die and what to die for, then I can make that decision for myself."

"Nithi..." He went to touch me again, but I wouldn't allow it, smacking his hand away.

"Don't 'Nithi' me!" The tears sure were flowing at this point, for the both of us. It was hard to tell who was more embarrassed.

"Let me get you out of here."

"How?"

"There must be a way. We'll find a way."

"You keep saying that! But there isn't a way. There's only one way out of this mountain and that is against a whole army!"

He did not have an answer to that.

"If I'm going to die, I want it to be on my terms," I continued, fiercely. "Not yours. Not your uncle's. I'll die tomorrow too, but I won't die for this..." I gestured to the room. "This mountain. I won't die for my ancestors' memory. I'm not going to die for my father's memory - Maker's breath! I barely knew the dwarf. I'm not going to die for the gold and I am certainly not going to die for your uncle, even if I hold him personally responsible for my death!" I was ranting on. "No, tomorrow, I'll die for you! And you, alone."

"Nithi..." Fili took a step forward, but I wasn't having it.

"Stop."

"Nithi." And, before I could stop him, he had crossed the short distance between us and was pulling me to him, kissing me with such a fury I thought he meant to consume me whole. I panicked and reacted and bit down hard on his lip.

"Fili," I managed, through a mouthful of his blood. "I-"

"I'm sorry," he said, having quickly pulled himself away. He clutched at his bloody bottom lip. "I thought-"

"You thought right." It was my turn to take him, to hold him. His lips were warm and salty, metallic with blood, but soft, almost unbelievably soft. His moustache braids tickled my chin, but I refused to part from him, only deepening the kiss further. By the time we both broke away, we were both breathless and clearly hungry for more.

"It's tomorrow, isn't it?" I asked. Without him, my own lips tingled. I wanted him.

"Yes." We did not need to be specific. At best, we only had hours left. All that time we had before - wasted. 

"Stay with me," I whispered, and I was not entirely sure if I meant for that night or for the morning.

"I will," he said, firmly.

"I want you."

"I want you too."

"Then have me." And he did.

"Tomorrow," I whispered, as his lips trailed down from mine, down my chin, and down what small bit of neck was not plated up. "Tomorrow you can die for whoever or whatever you please." I gasped then, clutching a handful of golden curls; he had hit a spot. "But tonight..." My grip tightened. Because it had to be tonight. There was so little time left. "Tonight, you're all mine."


	20. War at our Gates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nithi and Fili spend some time together before things take a deadly turn.

I woke up to darkness, curled up to something soft and warm. It took me a long minute to realise just where I was and what had happened.

I was cuddled up to a sleeping Fili, on a hard stone floor somewhere within the mountain, and we were both completely naked.

I had no inkling of just what time it was - whether day had since passed into night or whether tomorrow had come already. In this stuffy, dusty, windowless chamber, there was nothing, but us. And, as long as we stayed in there and away from the others and our problems, we had all the time in the world.

Beneath me, Fili stirred at my movement. We couldn't have been asleep long, perhaps an hour. I did not feel rested, but I didn't feel bad either. Quite the opposite. There was a fine, dull ache between my legs that I hadn't felt in a long time. I could only hope Fili felt the same.

"Morning," he said, having opened one eye and caught me staring at him. 

"Is it?" Neither of us had the answer to that. 

We lay there for a few minutes in silence, both shocked perhaps at what we had done and the speed it had all come about. And how it had all come about. 

"Are we going to talk about-" Fili began, but I stopped him there, my hand over his mouth.

"No," I said, and, with that, I sat up and began to grab at what clothes were nearest to me - a job easier said than done. 

"Why not?" Fili too sat up, but he seemed less inclined to get dressed. Rather he leant down, brushed my loosened hair away, and trailed a series of whiskery kisses down my bare back.

I couldn't help but smile at that. 

"I don't want to spoil this," I whispered, admiring him from over my shoulder. "I want to stay here, in this room, forever."

"Me too." Empty words, empty promises we both knew we couldn't keep. But it was nice to play a different game for the moment; it was nice to pretend.

A hungry glimmer remained in Fili's eyes. It seemed his brief doze had revived him. He was insatiable, and I was willing to comply.

Before we could begin another round, we caught the faint echo of voices, somewhere not far, and footsteps. We could only look at each other in horror as we caught the sound of our names being shouted out.

"Fili!" It could only be Kili. "Nithi!" He was shouting from somewhere far off, but, if they were looking for us, someone was bound to come across us sooner rather than later. And I didn't exactly want any other dwarf to catch me in such a state of undress with Fili.

We didn't say anything, didn't need to. Our time together was over, as short and sweet as it had been. We had to face the day and what it would bring - and we had to do it, preferably, dressed.

Our throes that night had been hindered somewhat by us both being in armour, and, having removed various pieces of it from each other, we had cast everything to various corners of the chamber. At the time that had seemed a good idea. We were now both regretting it as we scrambled around, trying to find everything before we were discovered.

Our underclothes were not so hard to find and, once on, we could focus on the other's armour. The initial panicked rush had eased somewhat after we had found our underclothes and our dressing had since dissolved into a series of stupid mistakes and hushed laughter and frantic kisses.

Fili proved to be an attentive squire, helping me with my shirt of chainmail and then fitting me with each plated piece individually. When he was done, I did the same for him, so that when Kili eventually did find us, he only caught us in the act of me braiding Fili's hair back.

"There you are," he said, his relief evident. "We thought you'd done a runner on us."

"Like I would," Fili said. I tutted loudly and Fili started. "Like we would," he said, correcting himself.

Kili looked from his brother to me and then back to his brother, with a puzzled frown on his face. Braiding hair was an intimate act, but I was sure to keep my face still and devoid of emotion. 

"There you go," I said, having finished and, resisting the urge to nestle one final kiss into his hair, I moved away.

"Safe for me to be around Oakenshield yet?"

"What-? I mean, yes." It seemed Kili's thoughts were also elsewhere. "Balin wants you both to come to the ramparts at once."

"What's happening?" The spell of the room was broken. Fili's grim expression had once more returned.

"We kept watch over the night and, with first light, the elves began to form up."

'First light'? So the night was over then? The morning had come at last. 

"Why weren't we told of this sooner?" Fili asked, angrily.

"We couldn't find you," Kili said, defensively. "We looked high and low for you."

"The ramparts?" That was more my concern. "No one's getting thrown from them, are they?"

Kili shook his head.

"Thorin's settled down now," he said. "Master Baggins spoke to him and he doesn't seem... like he was. Maybe he's forgotten."

I did not like the sound of 'maybe'.

Just as we were about to leave the room, Fili started.

"Your helmet?" he said. "Where is it?"

I scanned the room, but only then remembered.

"The stairs," I groaned. "It fell off during the fight." 

There was no time to go back and look for it nor was there time to run back to the armoury. Fili groaned and then pulled off his own helmet.

"Don't want you taking a nasty hit again," he said, gently placing it onto my own head, and, all the while, ignoring my complaints. "Don't know if Kili and I can carry you around for the rest of the day."

I raised my eyebrows at that and then remembered: the trolls! Would my more inept moments ever be forgotten?

Kili went to remove his own helmet, but he was stopped by a frowning Fili.

"Don't," he warned. "I don't want to be worrying about your head either." 

Kili kept the helmet on for as long as it took his brother to turn his back and then he pulled it off and left it on the stairs. I was tempted to do the same with the bulky thing, but I found myself unable to part with that little something of Fili's, stupid as the thought was.

The other dwarves were all gathered already on the battlements and, if they wanted to mention the events of yesterday, they didn't. Rather, as I passed them and looked out over the Desolation, I saw then just that there were far more pressing matters to attend to.

My bravado the night before at declaring that I would 'die for Fili' was something, but the thought of facing actual death was something else. And it seemed death would come from any one of the thousand grim elven faces below, all lined up in an orderly formation beneath the walls of the mountain, and all heavily armoured. My courage was slipping and my stomach turned. I wondered then if I had been stupid not to accept Fili's route out. 

Fili rather stood impassive, watching the scene below him with his usual look of grim determination. He stood at his uncle's right shoulder, whereas Kili took his left. If Oakenshield still believed I was the thief of the Arkenstone, he did not say anything. Rather he did not seem to notice that I was there, his eyes set on something below.

From within the ranks of the elf soldiers, two riders appeared. The one on the white horse I recognised as the bargeman and the one riding a giant antlered creature I recognised only vaguely as the king of Mirkwood, the much-cursed Thranduil. 

As if by way of greeting, Oakenshield snatched Kili's bow from it and loaded it. He fired it easily and the arrow bounced off of the hoof of Thranduil's mount. The giant antlered beast did not seem fussed by it, but the look its rider gave us was one of pure hate.

"I will put the next one between your eyes!" Oakenshield warned.

Kili jeered at that and the rest of us joined in, heartedly. If we were going to die, we weren't going to die quietly. 

In response to our chorus of jeers, the elf king raised his hand in signal and his archers stepped forward, bows nocked. If ever there was a signal to duck it was then. I crouched low behind the stone wall of the rampart, waiting for the sudden whoosh of a hail of arrows. It never came. 

Hesitantly, I made my way back to my feet, as did the others. Only Oakenshield remained standing, his bow still nocked and aiming directly for the elf king. 

"We have come to tell you that payment of your debt has been offered and accepted," the elf king announced, having to shout to make himself heard from where we stood. 

"What payment?" Oakenshield retorted. "I gave you nothing. You have nothing." 

The elf king raised his eyebrows at that and turned to the bargeman, who appeared to be reaching for something in his pocket. Up on the ramparts, we all edged closer to see what he would reveal, although I was mindful all the while of just how steep the drop was from the rampart. 

"We have this," the bargeman called, and, from his pocket, he withdrew one of the most beautiful jewels I had ever seen. It was large, larger than the hand of the human who held it, and at once it appeared comprised of white light and all the colours of the rainbow at once. 

"The Arkenstone." Behind me, I sensed Balin stiffening. The older dwarf's face had paled at the very sight of the stone. "It cannot be."

Oakenshield only looked down at the bargeman dumbly, recoiling almost at the appearance of the thing he had wanted most.

"They have the Arkenstone," Kili gasped. "Thieves! That is ours. That is the heirloom of our house! How did you come by it?"

"That stone belongs to the king!" Dwalin roared, stepping forward to the very edge of the rampart, and we joined him in shouting down abuse at the elf and at the human who held the jewel, our jewel.

"And the king may have it with our goodwill," the bargeman called back up, ignoring our cries. He casually threw the stone and caught it, as if it wasn't the mountain's most treasured jewel. He then pocketed it as if it was simply a pebble he had found on the floor. "But first he must honour his word."

"They are taking us for fools," Oakenshield sneered to us, silencing our jeers. "This is a ruse. A filthy lie." I looked from him and to the bargeman. I had seen fake jewels before. Fake jewels did not glow of its own light, but reflected them as any standard jewel would. Whatever the bargeman held was the real item, I was sure of it.

"The Arkenstone is in this mountain!" Oakenshield shouted. "It is a trick!"

"It isn't a trick." I turned then, surprised to see the hobbit speaking up. Truth be told, I could not recall the last time I had seen the hobbit or if he had even been on the ramparts when we had arrived, yet he was there, as clear as day, facing off against the king. "It is the stone. I gave it to them."

So then I was right on two counts! The stone was real and I had not taken it! But, if ever there was a moment for telling Oakenshield 'I told you so', that moment was certainly not it. The king had stiffened at the hobbit's outburst and turned to face him with a sad shake of his head.

"You?" he said, the betrayal sharp in his voice. "Why? How?" He sounded almost like the company leader he was before, before the monster he had become.

"I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure."

"You would steal from me?" Oakenshield's voice changed then, the monster reawakening. 

"Steal from you? No," the hobbit said. "No, I may be a burglar, but I like to think I am an honest one." I caught Nori's gaze at that - was there ever such a thing as an honest burglar?

"I am willing to let it stand against my claim," the hobbit continued. 

"Against your claim?" Oakenshield was incredulous. "Your claim? You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!" He advanced on the halfling then, casting aside Kili's bow, and looking set to wring the hobbit's neck before us all. 

"I was going to give it to you," the hobbit managed. "Many times I wanted to, but..."

"But what, thief?" Oakenshield seemed to hold himself back for a moment.

"You are changed, Thorin?" the hobbit exclaimed, saying all what we had been thinking better than ever I could have. "The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word! Would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!" Beside me, Fili tensed at that.

"Do not speak to me of loyalty," Oakenshield spat. He drew in a deep breath and then shouted at the top of his lungs: "Throw him from the ramparts!"

That was when all manner of madness broke loose. 

Up on the ramparts we hesitated at Oakenshield's order, none of us willing to play executioner to his judge. It was then that Oakenshield decided to choose for himself and did so by grabbing Fili, dragging his heir to do his dirty work for him. 

I grabbed Fili's other arm and together we pulled him free of Oakenshield. The king cast a dirty look at us both and straightened himself, yet his look could not rival the one Fili shot at him. In all the sudden chaos, I had yet to realise that I was clinging onto Fili's arm. Something about the order of being thrown from the ramparts was bringing back fearful memories of my own almost-execution. 

"Fine," Oakenshield spat, looking around at us all and finding no willing volunteers. "I will do it myself." He stormed forward and snatched up the hobbit.

Fili surged forward and out of my grip, as he and Kili sought to wrestle the hobbit from Oakenshield's grasp.

"Curse you!" the king was shouting. "Curse be the wizard who brought you into this Company!" With one arm he dangled the hobbit precariously over the battlements and, with the other, used it to swipe away at his nephews, at us other dwarves. "Curse you all!"

"If you don't like my burglar," came a booming voice from down below, "then don't damage him. Return him to me." The wizard!

None of us had seen the wizard since... since before Mirkwood. I had even begun to forget that our Company had had one, so long had it been since the wizard had been with us. He looked as aged as ever, walking with his staff, his robes just as dishevelled, but he was all in one piece. 

There was a long moment of silence, punctuated only by the hobbit's ragged breaths. 

"You're not making a very splendid figure as king under the mountain, are you, Thorin, son of Thrain?" the wizard continued to shout. 

That seemed to be the trick when it came to dealing with Oakenshield. Wordlessly, the king released the hobbit, passing him over to Fili and the others as if the last few minutes had never happened at all. Fili took the breathless hobbit and passed him onto Bofur, who took the hobbit under his arm and led him to safety.

"Never will I have dealings with wizards again! Or Shire rats!" Oakenshield continued to roar, but the danger had passed for the hobbit. I could only watch, in wordless envy, as the hobbit scaled down the battlements on a rope and back under the protection of his wizard friend.

"Are we resolved?" the bargeman called up. After all, the matter of the stone's authenticity had been resolved. "The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised?"

Oakenshield did not answer for a long moment.

"Give us your answer! Will you have peace or war?"

It was then that a large bird, the same as the one that Oakenshield had released the day before, flew up to the ramparts and settled next to the king. It seemed this was the omen to settle the king's answer. He looked out over the battlements, to the eastern hills beyond, and, in a clear voice, declared:

"I will have war."

Towards the east there came a distant clamour, like as if a thousand boots were marching at once. In the distance, figures appeared on the hills - thousands of them! All bedecked in armour and carrying spears aloft and led by a distant figure riding a large boar. 

Another army! A real army! Were we saved?

"Ironfoot," Balin whispered, and the name was taken by the others, who began to chant his name.  _ Ironfoot?  _ As in the one who ruled the dwarves in the east? In the Iron Hills? A cousin of sorts to the king?

The sight of an ally at this late hour did wonders for our spirits. Alongside the others I raised my sword and cried out at the top of my lungs in Khuzdul, welcoming our heroes and friends. Benath us there seemed to be panic among the elves, the king having withdrawn back and changing the direction of his own forces to face those of the dwarves. 

"Good morning." We could only just about catch Ironfoot's shouts from where we stood. "How are we all? I have a wee proposition if you don't mind giving me a few moments of your time... Would you just consider sodding off?!" 

A dwarf after my own heart. 

"All of you! Right now!" he continued to bellow. 

"Come now, Lord Dain," the wizard called out, from where he stood with the bargeman's small company of fishermen. 

"Gandalf the Grey," the other dwarf leader spat back. "Tell this rabble to leave or I'll water the ground with their blood." 

"There is no need for war between dwarves, elves and men," the wizard replied, going so far as to stand between the three armies. "A legion of Orcs march on the mountain. Stand your army down."

Orcs? As in the filth that followed Azog? I had thought we had seen the last of them at Laketown the night of the dragon.

"I will not stand down before any elf," Ironfoot retorted. "Not least this faithless woodland sprite!" Ironfoot pointed his war hammer in the direction of the elf king. "He wishes nothing but ill will on my people. If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I will split his pretty head open! See if he's still smirking then."

Now that certainly was a sight I was willing to see and my own cheers at that were entirely hearted. 

The elf king said something then, something we did not catch, but it seemed to be just what Ironfoot wanted to hear.

"You hear that, lads?" he bellowed. "We're on!" He raised his hammer and turned his mount. "We'll give these bastards a good hammering."

That was all the signal his men needed to raise their shields and form up. The elf king was yelling something too, his own men forming up, the archers moving back and the infantry moving forward.

Up on the ramparts we had a good, if not dizzying, view of all these goings-on. 

"He'll do it." I heard Kili's excited whisper. "They'll beat them. They'll break them against the mountain."

Dwalin, the experienced soldier, hushed him then, hushed us all.

"Silence," he said, in a low voice. "Can you hear that?"

We could and we could feel it also. From somewhere towards the south came a great rumble, almost as if from the very earth itself. It was enough to shake the ground beneath the feet of the armies and, if not to shake the mountain, then at least to shake the stonework attached to the mountain. We could only watch in silent horror as the hills towards the south of us, by Dale and beyond, were split apart from something below.

A great and horrendous creature, a gigantic worm, emerged from the hole, shrieking and recoiling at the sunlight. It was joined by a succession of other such worms, each tearing yet more of the hills apart.

"What the-" The ramparts beneath us shook and, for a terrible moment, I thought we were going to fall. The ramparts held though, even if my nerves hadn't.

"You alright?" Fili said. I was developing a terrible habit of grabbing onto him.

"Yeah," I replied, shakily, but I was looking past his shoulder and out towards the hills beyond. I was not alright, anything but alright. Would things ever be alright again?

From the opposing peak of Ravenhill, a familiar pale and one-armed figure arose, shouting out in the Black Tongue. Azog. From his peak overlooking the mountain and the Desolation before it, the orc raised his banner and surveyed his armies, legion after legion of orcs emerging from the holes in the hills.

I was no longer the only one holding onto Fili. Kili was at his side, grasping his other arm. All previous jubilation had gone, but rather his bleak expression reflected his brother's. They did not have to speak. The ground had truly shifted out from beneath us. The stakes had changed, increased. If before there had been a chance at surrender, at survival, at making it out of this day in one piece, then that chance had flown us by.

Beneath us, the armies were shifting, priorities changing. No longer was Ironfoot facing up against the elves, but rather he was shouting, drawing his men towards the southern hills and against the real foe here, the oncoming orc armies. 

The elves too were moving - they no longer seemed to care for the mountain or what lay beneath it, but rather for their own survival. They turned their backs to us, bracing themselves then for the hordes.

Fili moved away from us then, over to where the hobbit had scaled over the wall. 

"Our kin are down there fighting our war. Our foe is down there fighting our real enemy!" he shouted. Standing there, the wind blowing through his golden mane, he looked like a real king. "Thorin, we must go."

But Oakenshield only looked at his nephew coolly and then out onto the field just as the armies met in the middle. The sound of them clashing was monstrous, deafening, sickening.

Our king looked over it all with a disinterested sneer and then turned back for the safety of the indoors.

"Uncle?" Kili said. "Uncle? Wait." But Oakenshield was not listening. He turned his back on his kin, on all of us, and went back to his gold.


	21. Dissension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin gets a wake-up call, almost a whole film too late.

"Stand down," was Oakenshield's last words on the matter.

Without Oakenshield, without the king, there was little we could do but watch the enemy sweep down upon the armies beneath us. The dwarves marched forward, looked set to engage. The elves as ever held back - they did not seem to know what to do.

Some of us though were more willing to try to help than others.

"Come on," Fili roared, turning his back on his uncle. He tugged at the rope the hobbit had used to escape. The rope had been strong enough to support a halfling, but it did not look strong enough to support a fully-armoured dwarf. Fili yanked at it again and the rope came loose. Swearing, he cast it aside. I could only thank Mahal the rope had broken with him still on solid ground.

"There's got to be another way to get down," Kili piped up. 

Balin could only shake his head, wearily.

"We sealed our last way out," he said, his voice breaking. The old dwarf looked like he himself was breaking. He had to clutch onto the side for support. "We've doomed them all," he added.

Down below, the dwarves under Ironfoot and the orcs had collided. It was hard amidst the confusion of dark colours and shouting to figure out if one side was doing better than the others, to figure out who would live and who would die. The dwarves had formed up into a solid line of shields, each set upon the other, but the orcs were unrelenting. There was only shouting, and screaming, and clash after clash - all merging together into one long harrowing note of confusion.

It was then though that something shifted.

The elves under the Mirkwood king were suddenly vaulting over the dwarves and their wall, where moments before both armies had looked set to attack each other. The elves struck hard against the orcs, no one, not even us, could deny that. It gave our lot some hope; the dwarves under Ironfoot could form up again, lower their spears, and plough through the orcs.

"They're doing it," I whispered, watching the scene in disbelief. I had seen fighting before, but I had never seen fighting on this scale nor with such stakes. But battles in the eyes of the inexperienced would always appear differently to those with experience. I only had to look at Balin's barely-held-back tears and Dwalin's stony expression to know things were not going as well as I had thought.

There was a distant horn, coming from Ravenhill and from where the pale orc stood beneath his ragged banners. We could only watch in horror as the orc army, already so much larger than those it fought, split and half turned towards Dale and where the refugees of Laketown remained.

The orcs were not the only things with their eyes set on Dale. From the holes formed in the hills, giants emerged: great lumbering beasts.

"No," I heard Ori whisper beside me. His gaze too was on the ruins of the city.

The move had proved to work in the orcs' favour. The human army, tiny in number compared to the elves and dwarves, were already retreating from the field, rushing back to Dale before the orcs could beat them to it, before the giants could lay waste to the city's walls. 

In the confusion the battle lines were blurring, the armies merging all into one. The elves seemed set to follow their king, who was riding his great antlered beast at full speed towards the city.

We had a good view of it all and a good idea of who was to blame for it all. 

"We can't just watch them die for us," Fili snapped. "For our mistakes. We must find a way to get down."

"And Thorin?"

"Thorin's made his decision," Fili spat. "And he can live with it. Those who wish to remain, remain. But I'm going."

"I'm going to," Kili said, and he clapped his brother on the back. 

"Me too," Ori piped up. He too moved to his cousin's side.

I did not need to say anything and Fili did not seem to expect me to. There was gratitude in his eyes, concern as well, but we both knew we had made up our minds all those hours ago. 

There were worse things to die for.

The older dwarves looked at us and looked among themselves. They had seen more hardship than us, some had fought battles before. They were wiser than us, knew more of what we would face down below, and yet they were willing to join us.

"Aye," Gloin said. "You have my axe, young Fili."

"My hammer too," Bofur said.

"I'm coming to," Dori said, resting a hand on Ori's shoulder. He raised his eyebrows at Nori.

"You still blame me for getting you into this mess, don't you?" Nori said.

"Yes," I said, simply.

"I wasn't talking to you!"

"'S true though."

"Fine," Nori said, pointedly to his brother and not to me. "I'll come with you. I guess I owe you that much."

The others still looked uncertain.

"What about Thorin?" Dwalin said.

"What about him?"

"He gave us an order. We can't just go over him."

"You've seen what he's become," Kili retorted, hotly. "You've seen what he's allowed to happen. You're seeing it now. We have to act, with or without Thorin."

"He's our king."

"He's not  _ my _ king." There was silence then, incredulous faces turning to me. "He would sooner have us die, have those under Ironfoot die, than admit what he has become."

"You cannot just deny him," Dwalin all but roared. "He's your king."

"You saw what he did with the hobbit. You saw what he did to Fili. You saw what he almost did to me," I snapped. "He'd do it all to you too, and he'd do it to every dwarf, human, and elf on that battlefield to feed whatever demon consumes him." I couldn't believe what I was about to say. "The hobbit was right. There is a sickness on this place, on this mountain. We need a new leader, another to follow." I looked among the other dwarves, before resting my gaze on Fili. "One we should follow."

Fili, despite his angry calls to battle, did not look comfortable with the sudden spotlight. He did not deny what I said, but he didn't seem too pleased that I had said it. Perhaps I should have kept that particular cat in the bag...

"You speak treason," Dwalin spat, taking a step towards me. My former mentor looked set to wring my neck and - with the mood I was in - looked set to go down with a fight.

"I speak the truth," I retorted. 

"Give us enough time to break the barricade." Fili took a step between us. "Speak with Thorin. Change his mind if you can. If not by then, then... we'll see." He was not willing to claim the crown or the burden that came with it. He just wanted to help: help mediate this pointless fight between Dwalin and me and, most importantly of all, to help those in need beneath us.

I had over-stepped myself, but, in the heat of it all, my words mattered little more than dust. I cared no longer for Oakenshield, for any vengeance he might have upon me for my words. Balin at Azanulbizar had chosen Oakenshield as his king, as the one he meant to follow. Dwalin had chosen him for his king perhaps even earlier. My father had followed him into battle, into ruin, into an anonymous pauper's death. Now I was making my choice.

And I knew who I would follow.

In the ruins of the entrance hall, there was little means we could find to break the barricade. We had worked hard at it, even in only the space of one night, and it would take a great and heavy thing to knock our work aside. 

Bofur and Bifur, more technical-minded than most, examined the wall, picked at the rocks. They left the rest of us, without Dwalin, without Oakenshield, to a moment with our thoughts.

"What I said up there," I began. Fili had yet to speak to me since that moment and I thought it would be best for me to clear the air, "if I put you into an awkward position..."

"You have," Fili said, bluntly, "but it's one I should have claimed sooner."

"You ready for this?"

"For the battle or for taking lead?"

"Both."

"No." He chuckled then, a low dark sound. 

"Good to know." 

There was an unspoken consensus in the hall. One by one we removed the armour of our ancestors. It was unlikely in our final charge that any of us would make it out alive, with or without the armour. At least without it, we could make the charge in style. 

I was relieved to cast the helmet aside, despite it being a little something of Fili's. It was heavy and burdensome and had been giving me a headache. But I struggled to remove the chest plate, the arm guards, the -

"Don't," Fili said, catching me fiddling with the straps. He had already removed his own and stood before me only in leather and chain mail. "Keep it on."

"I'm not waddling out there," I said.

"I'd rather you'd wear it. It'll give me some peace of mind."

"Peace of mind?"

"To know you're protected."

"Don't go back on your word," I retorted, and Kili, who had most obviously been eavesdropping, looked up at that. 

"What word?" he said.

"Nothing," we both snapped.

It was then that Fili drew me aside, just beyond Kili's hearing range.

"If things don't go so well," he whispered. It was then that Bofur loudly announced his idea to take a giant ceremonial bell from one end of the entrance hall and to rig it up at the other. It was a tricky task and one that needed to be done quickly and the others were already gathering at the other end of the hall to carry it. 

"If things don't go so well," Fili repeated, "we have to think about the future."

"The future?"

"Last night," Fili said.

"What about it?"

"If... if you're..." He looked down hesitantly to where, beneath plates of armour, my gut would be. "You know. We need to protect it."

That caught me off-guard.

"Was that what last night was about for you?" I hissed, careful to keep my voice low. Our discussion was already attracting the attention of the others. I could feel their gaze on my back. "Sowing some wild oats for the last time in the odd chance they'll bloom."

"No!" Fili exclaimed. "No," he added, quickly lowering his tone. He too was conscious of the others. "No, I just- I just want to make sure."

"I don't know much about babies and dwarflings," I said, "but I do know it takes longer than a few hours to be sure. For better or worse, I'm coming with you and I'm not doing it weighed down like this." 

He must have guessed that he had lost the argument as he helped me with the final straps and pulled the plates away. The others were no longer watching, but were busy carrying and setting up the bell. It gave us time, a short bit of time, but time nonetheless.

As he helped me remove the armour, Fili was sure to let his hands linger. His caresses only reminded me of the night before, made the ache between my thighs all the more painful. I was resolved to fight, and resolved perhaps to die, but a large part of me wanted to live even just to have some more time to really know each other. To really explore each other.

I had hastily pulled my hair into a plait that morning, devoting more time to Fili's, and the blasted thing was already coming loose. 

Gently, Fili removed the ties from my hair, cheap leather things that had survived intact from the Blue Mountains. With experienced fingers, he set about braiding my hair again, this time into multiple plaits, but, with the last one, he left a small memento: one of his beads.

"Really?" I whispered, my thumb tracing over the familiar pattern. There was no mirror for me to check, but I was sure it had been the one I had stolen all those moons ago.

"Don't sell it," he said, only half-jokingly, "but I want you to have it."

If the others had been blind and deaf before to what was going on between us, there was no going back from then on. Gifting beads, braiding hair - these were all courtship rituals. I had been with other dwarves before - and the odd human too, for my sins. But I had never been courted. It was just a shame that I would not live to enjoy this new experience fully.. 

The bell set up, the others returned to gather their weapons, to prepare one more time. If they spotted Fili's silver bead nestled into my hair, they did not have much time to ask about it. Rather all attention was drawn by the arrival of Dwalin.

"How did it go?" Balin asked, but his brother did not reply, merely stalked past him and to where Fili stood beside his brother.

Fili looked set to defend himself, his sword already in his hand, but there was no need for him to. Rather Dwalin reached him and sunk to his knees before him.

"For Durin," Dwalin said, "for Durin's sons."

Over Dwalin's bald head, Fili looked about the hall, at the dwarves already stood, weapons in their hands. He opened his mouth, as if to go and make a speech, but something stopped him. Stage fright, perhaps.

It was Kili who came to his aid then, clapping his brother on the back.

"For Durin," he cried, loud enough for his cry to echo across the room. "For Durin's sons and all who lived in this mountain."

"For Durin," we all cried in reply.

Raising a mailled hand, Fili signalled to Bombur. The dwarf had found an old warhorn in the armoury and it would be this that would mark the signal for our charge. The dwarf - above us on the ramparts - prepared himself. We had only moments left.

We began then to fall into a loose formation, with Fili at the point of the triangle and his brother close to his side. Behind him came Dwalin and then Balin and then - 

"Nithi," Balin said, seeing me lost for where to stand, "behind me." I had hoped my sudden fit of nerves was not too obvious, but the older dwarf knew the signs. "Stay with me," he added, in a low voice. "Keep with me and we'll get through this."

"In one piece?"

As blunt and honest as ever, Balin shook his head.

"We can hope," was all he said on the matter. Then he frowned.

"What's that in your hair?"

"Nothing," I said, quickly, moving back before he could see the bead. 

"Ready?" Fili called out. He watched us form up with the uneasy look of someone not used to giving commands. His gaze passed over everyone, settling finally on me. It was there his gaze held. 

There would be no chance at this point to say a real goodbye, but perhaps that was for the best. If he was relieved that Balin would watch over me in the battle, I would not know. He at least got to lead the charge with his brother and with the rest of us at his back. There could be worse ways to die.

As if in reply, I raised my shield, raised the sword that was proving to be a poor substitute for the one he had found me all that time ago. With his gaze still on me, I raised the blade and pressed a short kiss against the beaten metal. It was a poor substitute for my old sword and it was a poor substitute for him, but it would have to do.

There was a sudden commotion from the back of the formation; Ori had spotted something emerge from the back of the hall.

Oakenshield.

He had cast his crown aside and his fur cloak, as well as his armour. The dwarf that approached us did not look much different to the one I had seen that first time at Bag End. His expression was grim, but the look in his eyes was not as it had been recently. For the first time in days, they looked positively clear.

He was... cured?

The sight of him, returning then, just as we were about to make our final charge was too much for some. Kili tore away from where his brother stood at the head of us and launched himself at his uncle.

"You return only now?" he spat. 

"I do," Oakenshield replied.

"I will not hide behind a wall of stone, while others fight our battle for us! It is not in my blood!"

"No, it is not," Oakenshield said. Even his voice had changed. Gone was the former hiss of the mad king - now he sounded almost... calm.

"We are sons of Durin," he continued, and, as Kili reached him, he held up his arms to embrace his nephew. "And Durin's folk do not flee from a fight."

Kili's anger was fading quickly away. He rather hesitated, uncertain whether to accept his uncle's sudden affection or his overall change in personality. He looked over his shoulder, back at his brother, back at all of us, and found his confusion only mirrored multiple times.

"Kili," Oakenshield said, softly. "I have done wrong. I have done wrong on all of you," he added, raising his voice to address the rest of us. His gaze seemed to settle on Fili, still stood beside the barricade. "Some more than others and, for that, I am truly sorry. I am sorry for leading you all to this and I am sorry for abandoning the fight. I will do what I can to make this up to you, but in time," he said. "I believe I've wasted enough of it already."

There was a low hesitant chuckle at that. Eyes looked from Oakenshield to Fili, who had yet moved, and back to Oakenshield. It was Kili who eventually broke the stalemate.

"Thorin," he said, and he embraced his uncle, resting his forehead against his. 

Fili still had yet to move.

"I have no right to ask this of you," Oakenshield added, addressing us all. "But, will you follow me one last time?"

This was where the real awkward moment came and it was not only Fili who looked deeply uncomfortable. Dwalin all but choked aloud. Only moments before he had pledged himself to Fili. He could not turn back on his word, no matter how much he wanted to. 

My own words caught in my throat. There was something hopeful about seeing Oakenshield back in his previous state, but the memory of him in his mad rage was still all too fresh. And I wasn't Dwalin. I had not spent my entire life in Oakenshield's service. My loyalty to him was not so easily bought or kept.

It was Fili who saved us.

He took a breath and crossed the hall to where his uncle stood. There was a moment, a sickening moment when I caught the glimpse of his still bandaged hands under his maille, where I thought he was set to run his uncle through with his sword. But Fili did not live up to my fears. Rather he grasped his sword and sunk to his knees before his uncle, his sword held up, blade pointed down.

"For Durin," he said, aloud in the Common Tongue and then in Khuzdul. 

Oakenshield brought Fili up to his feet and embraced him as he had done Kili, forehead to forehead. The moment was as sweet as it was fleeting; the din from beyond the barricade was only growing louder - we were running out of time.

"Form up!" Dwalin shouted, and we did as ordered.

Oakenshield took the position at the head of the formation, flanked though he was by his two nephews. He looked to them both and only then raised his fist in signal.

Up on the rampart, Bombur sounded the horn: a sharp noise that resounded out from the mountain. As if in response, the noise from outside dimmed somewhat - it seemed nobody had expected our coming.

"Ready?" Fili shouted, only this was not a leader shouting. Rather it was a relieved deputy. He looked over his shoulder and caught sight of me, shield raised. His accompanying smile was small, discreet, apologetic - we were finally out of time.

"Ready," we replied. 

Up above, Bombur grabbed onto a rope and pulled with all his might and weight. The giant bell before us lurched; rusty though it was, its aim was true. With a sound that would have deafened a weaker dwarf, the bell blasted through the barricade, scattering rock and debris in all direction.

The sunlight hit us first, blinding us where the bell had deafened us. But our delay was only momentary.

"Du Bekar!" From somewhere up ahead, Oakenshield was shouting, and then he was running, as were the others, straight into the light. 

"Du Bekar!" I shouted in response, loud enough for the Khuzdul to scratch at my throat. "Du Bekar!"  _ To arms.  _

Sword in hand, I threw myself forward, after them all, into the light and straight into hell. 


	22. The Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves of Erebor make their final stand, but will everyone come out alive?

Hell was surprisingly cold, bright and sharp.

As we ran free of the mountain's shade, the trail of debris we had left in our wake, the sound of the barricade's collapse still ringing in our ears, we were met at first with nothing. Then a low rumble from afar started up in greeting - our kin and enemies calling out to us from across the battlefield.

"Du Bekar!" Oakenshield shouted again, and we responded in kind.

The force under Ironfoot was close, closer to the mountain that they had appeared from the ramparts. The orcs must have driven them back to breaking point against the very mountain. Helmeted faces turned towards us; Ironfoot shouted an order above the din and the Iron Hill dwarves drew apart, allowing us a clear path through.

"With the king!" Ironfoot shouted, and his dwarves fell in behind us, swelling our numbers. "To the king!"

"Du Bekar!" Oakenshield shouted, one final time. His shout was taken up then by Ironfoot and then by the entire dwarf army, Khuzdul ringing out across the Desolation.

It was a moment unlike any other. One that would stay with me until my final breath. There was an odd sense of kinship, being one among many, all set towards a single purpose. My death, something I had avoided for so many years, now seemed insignificant - I was but one in a tide of armour and weapons.

The orcs ahead braced themselves for impact and, for a short moment at least, our tide was strong enough to sweep back their first few lines. The first orc I met was slammed back into his comrades by the force of my shield. He struggled against me, struggled against my shield, and against the orcs at his back. His only means of escape were on the point of my sword.

He was of a stronger build than the goblins we had faced under the Misty Mountains and his death was no easier. He continued to flail against my shield and it took all of my strength to hold him in place just so as to free my sword from where I had buried it into his gut. Death came for him perhaps on my fourth thrust and it was not a pretty death. He sunk to the floor and to the mud with a bloody gurgle, yet there was little time to react. Behind him came more and more, all pushing forward and all hungry for blood.

I held my shield up, crouched low behind it. On my left, Balin struck out with his blade. He was himself without a shield and I found myself pushing myself before him, if only to offer him a little protection from the onslaught.

"'S nice of you, lass," he managed to shout, in an odd moment when the press was not quite so pressing, "but I've been doing this from when you were nothing more than a sparkle in your da's eyes."

That comment caught me off-guard, even if only for a brief, choked-up second. It was just enough time however for one orc to strike out at me with the flat of his blade. In this respect, I was lucky it was only the flat side that caught me across my face. The beast bruised me and knocked me back, but he failed in finding a killing blow. In his own moment of weakness and hesitation, he was driven through by Balin's sword. There was no need for repeat slashes; Balin, kindly old dwarf as he was, had been truly slaying orcs for longer than I had been alive.

"Thanks," I managed, only half-grudgingly, having first wiped away blood from a split lip. "If we make it out of here in one piece, I owe you."

His chuckle was lost amidst the chaos that swept in around us. In it all, I had lost sight of Fili and his brother. It seemed that they and their uncle had pressed on deeper into the melee. I could only hope Fili lived still; his bead still hanging on for dear life to my hair.

The wall of orc was not holding very well. As we dwarves pushed the enemy back, aided in part by the odd elf that had not yet reached their king in Dale, the ties that had held the armies in their respective formations broke. The orcs seemed to be succumbing.

"Nithi!"

My sudden drop in concentration could have cost me dearly. Bofur rushed forward to block the orc's blow. His warhammer struck the blade out of the beast's hand first and then a second blow sent the beast sprawling back. Quick to jump to my aid, Bofur was not aware himself of the orc launching at his back before it was too late.

Throwing myself forward, I managed to jump onto the orc's back in a flurry of maille, metal and flesh. There was nothing for me to hold, laden as I was with sword and shield, and I fell back easily. The blow yet proved enough to surprise the orc and to set him off target. His killing blow missed and succeeded only in knocking Bofur's hat free of his head.

We watched as the hat flew a good distance before falling underfoot and into the mud beneath an approaching horde of orcs.

Bofur had little time to mourn its passing. The orcs were upon us and it took a great deal of strength to hold them back, my sword striking repeatedly, again and again, at them. Mahal, did my arms ache. But it was a good ache - an ache that only reminded me that I was still alive and still fighting.

Balin did not appear to be tiring at all. He swung and he fought - if anything, the battle seemed to be doing him good. Gone was the broken dwarf of days past. He was almost reborn - the dwarf warrior of Azunulbizar renown.

"Balin!" We both looked up to hear his name being called. It was Oakenshield, forcing a path through the chaos towards us, atop a goat-thing of sorts. I had seen some of Ironfoot's men riding the beasts, but I could not figure why Oakenshield would. The creature, horned and straining to be free, looked positively feral.

"We ride to Ravenhill," Oakenshield continued above the din. It was then that I saw the other three behind him, similarly mounted: Fili, Kili, and Dwalin. "We will slay the beast himself and bring this all to a quick end."

A good plan perhaps, but not one that would be easily completed.

"Defend the mountain," Oakenshield ordered. "Fight with Dain; protect our men. I will bring you Azog's head or I will not return at all."

"Return," was all Balin had to say on the matter. "All of you, all in one piece."

"We will."

"Thorin," Balin said, "swear it."

"I swear," and Oakenshield clasped his fist to his chest in a momentary salute, before he cast a final look to the mountain and steered his mount away.

Behind him, Fili too held back for a moment. His gaze fixed on me, he clasped his fist to his chest. A promise. An oath.

Kili was not oblivious enough not to notice the look we exchanged. His face was one of puzzlement as he looked between us, but, before words could be exchanged, Fili was spurring his own mount away, followed then by Dwalin and his brother.

I turned my own attention then back to the matter in hand: the battle. The orcs, weakened for what proved to be only the shortest of respites, pushed back relentlessly. There were but a few occasions I could look past them, up towards their banners atop Ravenhill.

Survive, I wished. Damn it, live.

"Nithi!"

I really needed to focus. Back in the present, I ducked, narrowly avoiding an orc axe destined for my skull. The orc whose axe it was overswung and lost balance. I used that to my own end, shoving my own blade up through the soft, vulnerable part of his neck.

The stench of it all was really getting to me. There was a rancid hint to the orc blood, one that I was a little too familiar with. The memory of its taste lingered with me still from the time I had bitten an orc during our escape in the barrels. With orc blood splattered across me, across my face, the foulness was overwhelming and I could only just about keep myself from gagging.

"Balin!" I turned to see the infamous Ironfoot approach, his great red beard stained as much by age as by orc blood.

"Dain!" Balin replied, and the two embraced, despite the battle ongoing around them.

"Balin, it's worse than we thought," Dain had to shout to be heard above the fighting. It was not too hard then to eavesdrop. "My scouts report movement from the east."

"The east?"

"Forces under Bolg, Azog's runt."

I did not need to follow their gaze to know what they worried about. What lay to the north of the mountain and to the east of it: Ravenhill.

"They'll be overrun," Balin exclaimed, his thoughts reflecting mine. "We need to get them away from there and to regroup."

"We'll never reach them in time. We need someone to get to them, to tell them. And to be quick with it!"

Balin thought it through for the smallest of seconds and then he turned to me.

"Nithi?"

"What?"

Ironfoot raised two bushy eyebrows, appraising me from beneath them.

"Can she do it?"

I might have been eavesdropping, but I was not following where this was going. Or, if I was, it was only because I didn't like just where this was going.

"Can she do what?" I repeated.

"Nithi," Balin said, his voice low and earnest. "I would not ask if I had much other choice."

I looked from him to the horned mount straining at the rein held by one of Ironfoot's scouts, and then up towards Ravenhill, its peak and the sheer drop that fell from it.

"What about your scouts?" I said, hastily, turning to Ironfoot.

"Thorin would sooner hear the news from a dwarf he knew. He would listen more to reason from-"

"From me?! Reason from me?"

Balin seemed to realise the error in his words.

"Fine, then if not for him, do it for Fili." He waved aside my reddening face - now was not the time for that discussion. "For Kili, for Dwalin and, well, for me..."

I could hardly say no to that.

Not that I had much time to think about it. A fresh onslaught of orcs pressed forward, drawing Balin, Ironfoot, and his dwarves back into the fray.

"Go now!" Balin shouted, above the clamour of swords and armour. One of Ironfoot's guards took me by the arm and manoeuvred me to the mount. He crouched low, allowing me to use his back as some form of lift up.

Atop the beast, I realised only then how much easier riding a pony had been. The thing was battle-crazed and half-wild and it seemed willing to throw me from it. I just about managed to hold on, grabbing at its hair and then at its reins.

"Go now!"

I did not need to be told twice. I quickly kicked my boot into the beast's side and it surged forward, cutting easily and fearlessly through the orc ranks. In the confusion, my shield was lost, knocked from my grasp by one orc who thought to jump up and attempt to pull me off. His attempt earned him my boot in his face and perhaps a few broken teeth, but it cost me my shield and very nearly my balance.

There was little however stopping my mount. He seemed to spurn any attempt by me to steer him, but rather sought out Ravenhill almost by instinct. I could only weakly hold on for dear life and urge the beast to hurry up. I feared we would be too late.

Another army? We were only just about routing the troops the Pale Orc had brought up from the ground. And with Azog having drawn the Durins away from the immediate protection of their kin and mountain, it seemed the tables were truly turning. What the hell was Oakenshield thinking to follow such a plan?

And what the hell was I thinking trying to save him?

The path beneath Ravenhill was a treacherous one, full of broken rocks and boulders. An orc, lost from the rest of his army, emerged from behind one such boulder and made a derisive sweep of his blade at me. He did not cut me, but his sudden appearance was enough to startle both me and the goat. The beast rose up onto its back legs and threw me from it. I landed, dazed and winded, upon the rocks, allowing the orc easy advance.

The orc took another swipe at me and, stunned though I was, I did manage to counter it with my own blade. Using my remaining strength to parry his blade from where it hovered over my throat, I gritted my teeth against the pain and rolled suddenly free of his strike. The orc fell forward and struck only gravel.

He roared and spun around and went to hit me again, but my mount was quicker. Rearing up, the great beast let out an indignant bleat and fell onto the orc, striking out at him with flailing hooves. The blow was enough to bring the orc to his knees, where he was finished off by another's blade.

"Nithi?"

I must have really hit my head as I fell. I had just imagined the hobbit appearing out of thin air before me and stabbing the orc in the back with a glowing blue sword.

"Ba- Bilbo?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you!"

We stood, breathless, watching each other for all of a long moment. I was the first to break.

"I haven't got time for this. I need to get to Oakenshield and the others before it's too late."

"You've heard as well? Of Bolg's army?"

"You know this? How do you know?!"

"The elves rode in: Legolas and Tauriel. They claim they saw it with their own eyes."

Elves. I groaned aloud. Of course they would claim a part in this.

"You can go back," I said, firmly. I took my restless mount by the rein without some struggle and then made a difficult attempt to climb up. "Back to Dale and your wizard."

But the hobbit would not have it.

"I'm coming with you," the hobbit said, resolutely. There was no point in arguing with him. We had wasted enough time and there was little enough of that to waste.

Settled once more into my saddle, my blade reattached at my belt, I leaned down and pulled the hobbit up and behind me.

"You better hold on," I warned. "You fall? I'm not stopping."

I spurred my heaving mount on then, the hobbit doing all he could to keep his arms around my waist. For a moment, just as I began the climb up, I thought he had fallen. The weight around my middle seemed to shift and then ease, and I almost broke my rule. Mercifully, the hobbit was only readjusting to the saddle and so I kept my word and the hobbit kept his seat.

The climb up to the peak was a treacherous one though. There was enough loose patches of stones and ice to trip a less sure-footed beast although our mount proved to do us proud, climbing up the slope as if it was born to the task.

As we climbed, the air grew cooler and more frigid. Each breath steamed up before my face in small clouds and my ungloved hands burned, clenched as they were into two small fists around the reins. There was nothing I could do, but press on.

Ravenhill had possibly been a citadel of sorts once upon a time. It seemed the kind of mindless fact the hobbit would know, but he did not seem willing to point anything out. It seemed his mind too was focused on the task ahead. I cared little for ruins, be they the work of dwarves, elves or men. I just wanted this ride to end, to finish my job, and to make it back down onto solid ground in one piece.

There came shouting from ahead and the goat charged towards it. Trapped almost within a set of broken walls, Oakenshield and Dwalin were fighting off a horde of goblins. I recognised their stench before I recognised the species.

I took some glee at riding through the horde, crushing goblin underfoot as I went. Dwalin swore aloud, struggling to believe his own eyes. He struck out at the goblins, despite his disbelief, until there was none left to fight.

"Bilbo?" Oakenshield spoke first. The hobbit waited for me to pull the mount to a stop and dropped from the saddle with a relieved sigh. The king struggled to contain himself and crossed the short distance to him, throwing his arms around him and embracing him. Dwalin made sure to look away, embarrassed; he needed to do so if only to help me down from my rearing and bucking mount.

"What are you doing here?" he said, but the hobbit beat me to it.

"We're here..." the hobbit said, from somewhere under Oakenshield. He pulled away, breathless and flushed. "We're here to save you...?

I was quicker.

"It's a trap," I snapped. "It's all part of Azog's plan to lure you here, while his son ambushes you with his forces from the east."

Dwalin and Oakenshield exchanged a look.

"How come by you of this?"

"Dain's scouts," I snapped, beating the hobbit and the elves to it. "They spotted them marching. Balin sent me here to tell you."

"Thorin, no," Dwalin said. "We're so close. We can't leave now. We only need to kill Azog and this all ends now."

"You haven't got the bloody time!" I retorted. Dwalin stiffened at that. Considering our fight earlier on, we still had some issues to settle, but now was not the time. "Get off of Ravenhill now and return to the mountain."

"Who says?"

"Gandalf for one," the hobbit said. "And the elves too."

Mahal, he really knew how to sell this. 

"Where's Fili?" I asked. "Where's Kili? Let me talk to them. We need to leave now."

Oakenshield did not meet my gaze. His eyes widened, his cheeks paled; he looked past me to the ruins behind, to where a solitary watchtower stood, Azog's banners still above it.

"You have got to be kidding me!" I roared, and, ignoring their shouts behind me, I span around and raced, as fast as I could push myself, down steps, over a ruined wall, across a frozen river and then to the watchtower's very door.

"Fili!" I shouted, as loud as I could despite my chest aching and the words catching in my throat. "Kili!" I was met only with silence and then my own voice, echoing back to me. 

The entrance to the tower was unguarded, uninhabited. I drew my blade from my belt and held it ready. 

"Fili?" I continued, albeit as a whisper. "Kili?"

There was a faint stir within, from within the darkness. A rustle came from the corridor up ahead and so I braced myself, raising my sword, but I need not have feared. It was Kili and only Kili, who seemed as surprised as the others by my sudden arrival.

"Nithi? What are you-?"

"No time. You need to get out of here. Now. Where's your brother?"

Kili looked stunned.

"He's upstairs," he said. "Scouting the upper levels, but - why? What's happened? Are you alright? Is everyone alright?" He grabbed my shoulders. "What is it?"

"Get out of here now!" I repeated, pushing him off of me and towards the doorway. But he still would not get it, still would not get out.

"He said to turn back," he whispered, not necessarily to me. "He said."

"Who said?"

"Fili."

Oh, shit.

"Leave!" I all but screamed. "Leave now!"

"Not without my brother!"

"It's a trap! Mahal damn it, it's a trap! Your uncle and Dwalin are out there about to be swamped. They _ need _ you. They need your sword more than mine. Go! I'll get your brother."

Kili hesitated, looked like he was about to argue, but I gave up caring. Spinning around, I run into the darkness, praying that he would not follow. He did not.

The tower was still for the most part in one piece and I took for the stairs, a winding set of stone that remained intact. Despite still remaining, there was an uneasiness to the tower, a heavy presence seemed to hang over it. The sooner I could leave it the better.

I kept my sword to hand as I climbed the stairs, imagining that any moment an orc could appear and attack before I could so much as react. By the time I reached the upper levels, my nerves were on edge and a faint rustle ahead was all it took for me to lunge forward, sword out. My blade met another's and it took me a long moment to realise that it was Fili who I parried with.

His eyes widened at the sight of me. I had forgotten in my rush to find him that he was not expecting me, that, to him, I was still on the battlefield with Balin. A whole flurry of emotions seemed to pass his face: anger, shock, relief and... and something else.

I knocked his blade aside and rushed into his arms. It took him a long moment to respond, but then he too was holding me, pulling me back with him, laying kisses down onto the top of my head.

"I didn't think," he whispered against my hair. "I didn't think I would ever see you again."

That did not fully sink in then.

"You've got to get out of here." I pulled away only enough to see his face in the faint light. "It's a trap - Azog has more orcs coming -"

"I know."

He knew?

"How?"

He did not reply. From somewhere above us or from somewhere beyond us, there was a rumble. We were not alone.

"You told Kili..." The pieces were fitting together. "You told him to turn back."

He could not look me in the eye.

"You elf-bred fool," I hissed, and in my anger broke away from him. I tried to restrain myself, but I could not hold it in any longer. Fists clenched, I rained down hits against his chest. He did not respond. "You self-sacrificing bastard."

"We have a chance," he said, before grabbing my flailing fists and holding me in place. "I have a chance. To end this. Now."

"How? A suicide mission? You really think you can stroll up there and kill Azog before all his best soldiers. His war council? And you expect to live? Were you dropped on your head as a child?" It was getting harder to berate him through a thick stream of tears and snot. "Mahal, what were you thinking?"

"I can end this now," he replied, his face close to mine. "I can end this and see you all live. You, Kili, Uncle, the Company. No one else needs to die for our fight."

"But you do?"

"It would be worth it."

"For you perhaps!" I struggled to free my fists, struggled with the urge to strike him again. "But what of the rest of us?"

Fili went to speak, but he was silenced again by another rumble, coming from somewhere closer than before.

"We can find another way," I whispered, all the while suddenly very much aware of just where we were and what was going on. "Come on, we need to leave."

Fili looked to me and then longingly back towards where the noise had come from.

"Fili!"

He did not hesitate again, but took my hand and drew me back to the stairs. I made sure to hold onto him tight, not trusting him not to break away. But he stayed by my side.

Just as we were about to descend, a harsh orc cry rang out from behind us, followed by a set of charging boots. We had been detected!

"Run!" His hand in mine, I all but dragged him down the stairs, missing the occasional one in my haste to escape. From behind us came the unmistakeable sound of boots on the stairs, loud enough to make us think Bolg's army itself was onto us. 

Just as we neared the end of the stairs, a sound from ahead caught me off-guard. Fili had the sense to pull me back in time before I could be speared through by an orc's blade. As more pressed down on us from above, more were coming up from below.

We were trapped.

Fili turned back and it was his turn to drag me along, back up the stairs. There was little other choice, but perhaps we could find some place to hide, some place to hold them off.

If only we had been so lucky.

Tearing up the stairs, we managed about another flight before we were stopped again.

The Pale Orc's face, illuminated only by a lit torch held in a crony's hand, loomed above with a twisted grin. Fili shouted out a warning and pulled me back, holding me behind him. He might as well have thrown me into the Pale Orc's bladed arm for all it mattered. The orcs from below pressed against our backs. There was nowhere else to run.

We had to fight and fight we did, back to back. I managed in the small space afforded to me to strike an orc through, but lost my sword in the process. At my back, Fili fought the Pale Orc himself and whatever crony managed a hit from above. Without sword, I was weaponless, but I was not set on going down without a fight. With fist and boot, spit and punch, I held the orc scum off, if only for a short while. 

An orc blade sliced my arm, making me stop long enough to cry out in pain and to clutch the blasted thing. Fili heard and it distracted him only for as long as it took for the Pale Orc to rain a giant fist down onto his head.

Crumbling behind me, I could only watch in horror as Fili fell forward, lifeless for all I knew, at the Pale Orc's very feet. Clutching my bleeding arm, I went to throw myself where - at the Orc? Over Fili? 

But I had little chance. Orc hands snatched at me, holding me, pinning me down, forcing me to kneel on the steps beside Fili. I struggled to break free, struggled to reach him, desperate for any sign that he yet still lived. I looked up in time only to see the Pale Orc stand over me, grinning all the while. His fist fell and then there was nothing.

Only darkness.


	23. Ravenhill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azog has Fili and Nithi trapped – who will survive Ravenhill?

I was not out of it for long. I woke to find myself unbound, but watched and without anything to hand I could use for a weapon. Two orcs stood at a door - we were no longer trapped on the stairs - and another leant against the wall beside me, sharpening his blade on a whetstone. He made sure to grin down at me when he saw me look up. 

My head killed - moving it did not help. The Pale Orc had sure done a number on it. Yet I was more bemused than anything by the fact that I still lived, as did Fili. He too had been laid upright against the stone wall, but his head still lolled forward, his chin still rested on his chest. The gentle movement of his moustache braids was the only sign I could tell that he still breathed.

Wherever they had left us it was cold. The door offered little means of protection from the icy weather outside. I moved instinctively closer to Fili, consumed by the cold and the fear of what would happen next.

As I drew closer, Fili stirred. He lived! Groaning and clutching his head, but otherwise very much alive.

"Nithi?" he whispered, struggling to open his eyes.

"Hush," I replied. "I'm here."

"Where are we? How long have I been out for?"

These were not questions that I could answer easily. I had been knocked out long enough for us to be moved elsewhere, but not long enough for the wound on my arm to stop bleeding. Pulling back the shredded remains of my tunic sleeve, I finally had a chance to assess the damage. I could move my arm still, despite it hurting to do so, and the wound was not deep, just bloody and in need of a clean.

More boots sounded out behind us, from below us. I looked up from my arm. What was happening?

"I'm sorry," Fili whispered. "If I hadn't been so stupid, we could've got out in time."

"You were stupid," I whispered back, "but I could've been faster."

"You shouldn't have to die here with me."

"You shouldn't have to die alone."

Caring little then for the guard, I shuffled even closer to Fili, resting my head against his shoulder. It was such a small gesture, something we could have shared countless times before had things worked out better. Yet it meant everything in those last few minutes. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, again. "I'm sorry for it all."

"For it what?"

"For making you come here. To Ravenhill. For not getting you out of the mountain sooner. For Laketown and the river and Mirkwood. For the time I was angry with you and over what? A bead?"

I managed a shaky laugh. I was not the only one regretting for lost time.

"Hey, it's a nice bead."

"I'm sorry that last night will be our last and that I did not have the courage to say something sooner. To make my feelings known sooner."

"Hey! You're not the only one guilty of that."

"I'm sorry I let Thorin treat you like that. That I didn't stand up to him sooner."

The door slammed open, bringing with it a harsh draught. Flinching at the light and cold, I tried to shuffle back. The Orc at it spoke up in the Black Tongue and the guards responded, pulling us up to our feet.

"Get off of me!" I said, yelping as the elf-fucker made sure to grab at my wounded arm. "Fili!"

Azog stood at the open door, face distorted into a vicious grin. Behind him the wind blew; a storm brewed. If only we would live to see it.

The sight of Azog held Fili still for only a moment, but then he was pulling against his guard's grip, almost free of it. He nearly missed my lips then, rushing as he was. I only had enough time to recover from the shock of his kiss to respond before we were hauled apart again to the sound of Orc laughter.

Fili held his gaze on mine as he was dragged by the guard to stand before Azog. I could only watch in horror as Azog grabbed a handful of golden hair and pulled it viciously back. Fili was of stronger stuff, but for a horrible moment there I had imagined Azog snapping his head clear off.

The Pale Orc snarled something - the only word of it that I caught was "Durin", and then he was dragging Fili through the door and out to the elements.

"Nithi!" I could hear Fili shouting to me. The guard struggled to hold me still, pushing at my back for me to follow.

"Fili!" I shuffled forward. As much as I wanted to be at Fili's side, to face whatever danger he faced, a terrible thought was coming together in my mind. It was only as I was shoved through the door did I realise I was right.

The orcs had pulled us up to the very top of the watchtower, a point that overlooked the ruins of Ravenhill, the entire Desolation and perhaps as far away as Mirkwood if my vision hadn't begun to swim at that point. I was going to throw up.

I stumbled then, fear finally getting the better of me. The goat ride up the mountainside had been terrifying; this was a whole thousand times worse. There was no _ chance  _ of falling from the tower, rather our fates were sealed. I must have gone limp as my guard began to shout, the other orcs turned to look, and Fili began to shout.

"What have you done to her?" Azog held him still by his hair, by his pride, but Fili seemed not to care, straining as hard as he could to reach me.

My brief faint had not initially been a ruse. The sheer drop below and the anticipation of our oncoming executions was enough to take the strength out of any dwarf.

The orcs continued to talk among themselves, but Azog hushed them. Rough hands pulled my head back, rougher fingers still prising my eyelids open. I made a good act of rolling my eyes back.

From somewhere far below came shouting: the others? They had not yet left?! Somewhere at the base of the tower Oakenshield, Dwalin and Kili remained.

It would do us little good. Overrun as it was with orcs, it would have been suicide for any of them to try and save us. They'd only make an audience for what was about to happen.

This was it, I thought, my chin resting against my chest, my hair falling into my face. We were going to die. And in the worst way possible.

The odds were stacked against us.

The Pale Orc had won.

Our fates were sealed.

We just couldn't make it _ that _ easy for them.

Held by the Pale Orc himself, Fili saw his final moments coming. I could just make him out through the thick veil of my hair. Azog held him still then, no longer by his hair but by his collar, but Fili did not cower, even as the blade was put to his neck.

"No!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, even at the moment of his own death his thought was to the others. "Run!"

I  _ thought _ him a fool. I  _ knew _ I did not deserve him.

Eagerly awaiting the killing blow, my guard's grip loosened every so slightly. I knew this only because the pressure on my arm wound lessened, hurt less. Now was the time.

With little hope of success but bloody minded enough to see it work out, I fell from my guard's grasp. The others, all absorbed by the scene at the platform's edge, did not respond straight away to his cry. It gave me just enough time to throw myself forward, those few short steps between myself and the Pale Orc.

Azog's eyes must have been resting on Oakenshield and not on his nephew. He stumbled, shocked, as I ploughed into him, jumping up and grabbing at his other arm and biting down with all the strength I could muster.

Orcs do not all taste the same, it turns out. Some taste worse than others.

Azog roared; his bladed arm pulled back enough to cut Fili - he cried out - but Azog was no longer so concerned with the Durins. Rather his attention was taken by the small, biting she-dwarf that clung to his bare arm.

Ground. Ground. So far below. I had to be careful not to really faint as Azog swung his arm back and fro, doing all he could to throw me off. I clung on.

The other orcs must have hesitated, none seemed willing to rush forward.

Fili, no longer held, recovered from shock sooner than the Pale Orc. With little time to lose, he too jumped, but onto Azog's bladed arm, just above its hilt, seeking to pull the weapon back onto its owner.

The Pale Orc was stronger than that, stronger than the two weaponless dwarves fighting him. He knocked Fili easily aside and turned his focus to me. Hands grasped at my hair, jerking me violently free of Azog's flesh and leaving a few of my teeth embedded in it; it seemed Azog's henchmen were finally helping him.

Free of the two bothersome dwarves at last, Azog spat Black Tongue down at me. His unbladed hand swung back and struck me hard across my face. What teeth remained were struggling to hold on. 

Vision blurred with pain, I struggled to focus on Fili. Where was he? One moment he had been there - a blur of gold - and the next? Gone.

Before me, Azog blocked most of my view. A blessing really. I had no wish to see the drop the moment before I'd be thrown down it. I just wanted to see Fili. For just one final time.

Azog spat something and, with his unbladed hand, snatched me from his crony by my hair. Shouting and struggling, I kicked feebly, but there was little use. Azog's grip was iron tight.

Just as he moved to dangle me over the abyss, a small smacking noise sounded out from somewhere nearby. At this point, I had lost all means of speech or sound, eyes tightly closed and body frozen up with fear. The ground was no longer beneath my feet and only Mahal knew just how far down it was.

Where was Fili?

Another sound rang out and Azog hesitated. Daring to hope, I opened one eye to find the Pale Orc looking over his shoulder to where one of his conspirators was flailing on his knees, an arrow protruding from his eye. The arrow's likeness I had seen before.

The elves?

Another arrow struck then, catching Azog in the shoulder. His grip on my hair loosened and I felt myself slip a few inches of hair. Mahal, save me. I had always known fool elves would be the death of me. 

Behind me Azog was growling, spitting out orders. His attention slipped. Another arrow sped past, striking a crony, causing Azog to only spit with rage more. He no longer had only dwarves to care about.

With a disgusted snort, Azog let go. Free of his grip, I plummeted, hitting the stone beneath hard. It was not the ground though that I fell to, but only the edge of the tower's platform. Distracted by the elves, Azog had shifted and me with him. 

Despite not being thrown over, I knew I had to move. The Pale Orc and his council were shouting at those down below and at each other in a rapid tirade of Black Tongue. Distracted though they were, it would not last. Crawling across the icy surface on only my hands and knees, I made sure to keep low, expecting any minute Azog's boot in my side and the platform falling out from beneath me. 

Where was Fili? My mind continued to spin as I tried to recall the last I had seen him. He had been running at Azog, throwing himself at him, as I had done for him, and then - ? Where had he gone?

There was only one answer and it was not an answer I wished to accept. Fili could not have been thrown over the tower. I would have known, I would have seen it. His death would not have been alone, witnessed from afar. Mahal, where was he?

It was then that I spotted the gloved fingers, clinging onto the edge. Mahal!

Sliding across on my belly, I reached the edge to find Fili, battered but alive, dangling high above the abyss. My vision swam and my stomach rolled, yet I leaned over the cursed edge and held out my hand.

For a person hanging on for dear life, Fili was his usual stubborn self. He tried to swing himself, one-armed and unaided, to reach the edge past my outstretched hand, but he slipped. His fingers lost grip, scrambling ineffectively at the icy stone. His face, eyes caught on mine, was one of pure terror.

I caught him. Mahal knew how, but I caught him. 

Clutching his hand as tightly as I could, I felt myself begin to slip over, his weight dragging me over the edge, but I would not let go. 

Remaining teeth gritted and my shoulder in agony, I tried to pull back, to pull him up. Below us came shouts from the others, but they may as well have been the wind for all the help they were. 

"Hold on!" I cried.

"No!" Fili could sense me struggling to hold him, knew his weight would pull us both over the edge the longer he held on. I felt his hand wriggle in mine, attempting to set himself free if only to save my life. But I would not let him get away that easily. 

It was unlikely either of us would get away that easily. I felt then a cold edge against my outstretched neck, watched Fili's eyes widen in horror. I did not need to see the reflection in his eyes to know Azog stood above me, about to sever a Durin's life and my own in one fatal blow.

I had no other choice.

In one movement, I let go of Fili's hand and rolled free of Azog's strike just as it struck where my neck had been. The sound rang out uselessly.

Breathless and shocked still at what I had just done, I scrambled up to my feet. I could still sense the ghost of Fili's hand in mine. Still feel its warmth.

I had killed him. I had saved my own life, but at the cost of his. 

What had I done?

There was little time to ponder that. I had broken free from Azog's hold, but I was still trapped, still surrounded on top of a tower filled with orcs. I had just let a better dwarf fall to his death before his family to save my own neck. 

I was once more all alone in the world. 

Azog roared then - a jubilant roar? a disappointed roar? He raised his bladed arm and shouted to the heavens. He, like me, missed the golden head rise beneath his feet and scramble over the ledge.

When I did see it, I did not believe just what I was seeing at first. The ghost of Fili had just scrambled up the tower's side and was now on his feet. He ran past a shocked Azog, ran past his shocked guards, and grabbed my hand as he did so, pulling me along in his wake. It was only then that I realised this was no ghost, but the real thing in flesh. 

When I had let go, Fili had been close enough to the tower's side to catch himself. Climbing it was hard, what with the wind and the elements, but the watch tower was old, its bricks jutted out at odd angles. He scrambled up the stone with the relative ease of a wood elf in a tree. 

Weaponless and injured, the only factor we had in our favour was shock and that could only last so long. Breaking past the last orc guard, we rushed for the door from where we had been led out of. Shouts of Black Tongue followed us; the surprise had clearly worn off fast. 

With no time, Fili raced on and I followed in his wake. It felt good to have his hand in mine again and it felt good to run and it felt good to have a chance again. 

The highest floor of the watchtower was empty bar for the door. We raced across its eery darkness until we came to the set of stairs, the same set we had been trapped on before. But we had little choice otherwise. 

Down the stairs we went, taking two or three at a time in our rush to escape, the sound of heavy boots on the stairs only driving us further forward. Yet no sound came from below us, other than from the sound of our own breathless gasps. The hordes of orcs from before had moved - where? 

Just as we neared the bottom floor, we found our answer. Waiting for orders, the orcs crowded the hallway of the first floor, waiting for a command from those literally up above them. They were as shocked by our appearance as we were of theirs.

"Hello there," I said, the rush of it all going to my head. "We're a little lost. Mind showing us the way out?" Their reply was likely unrepeatable if translated from the Black Tongue.

Without waiting for more Black Tongue or for one of them to grab us, Fili pulled me away and down the one final flight of stairs. Freedom was imminent, even with Azog's army raining down on us.

We broke out of the watch tower's door and out onto the ice. Solid ground.

I could've kissed it. I could happily have hugged it. But there was no time. Fili was dragging me away from the tower, dragging me away from the orcs pouring out from its door and back towards his uncle and the others.

Halfway across the ice, we found Kili. The fool had not listened to me, had not returned to his uncle, but must have continued to scout the area. He had mercifully not been found by any orcs and was still very much in one piece.

Fili broke away from me then and grabbed his brother, clutching him to him in a hug that would have crushed the bones of a lesser dwarf. Even with the Pale Orc's masses onto us, Fili needed this, needed to know his brother was safe. We had yet spoken since it all, since me letting go of him. I could only wonder if he understood, if he forgave me for it. I could only hope; things had worked out in the end.

"Fili!" We looked up then. Ahead of us, up the remains of a broken citadel, were the others. There were tearful grins on all three faces.

"You bloody idiots," Dwalin called down. "I thought you had it then."

I looked over to Fili and saw him stiffen, followed his gaze back to his uncle. Oakenshield stood on the ledge and looked down upon his oldest nephew, his pride clear on his face. 

(Not that he needed for his nephew to almost die to finally show his pride in him, but that was beside the point.)

"Thorin!" the hobbit shouted out, and the moment was broken. Behind us from the watchtower came Azog's orcs, falling over each other in their pursuit of us. And, from somewhere to the east of us, came a familiar sound - a warhorn, similar to the one Azog held, but one then that he was not using. Bolg.

The war was not over yet. The battle was only just then beginning.


	24. We Come Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head in the shadow of Ravenhill.

"Get back! Get back!" 

Dwalin did not need to repeat himself. The thin shriek of the horn still ringing in my ears, I ran to join him, Oakenshield and the hobbit, Fili and Kili close on my tail. The ruins were not difficult to climb up, but I was growing increasingly aware of the pain in my arm, breaking through the shock. Groaning, I slowed in my climb, but not for long. A hard hand grabbed my rear, pushing me upwards, and then Dwalin was there, grabbing me by the collar and hoisting me up. Oakenshield was at his side, leaning down to grab his nephews and pull them up, one by one.

It didn't take long to figure out who had given me a hand up and likely a bruise to go with it. Fili caught my eye, the braids around his mouth twitched, and it took all of my resolve to stop myself from grabbing him then and there. There was something that could be said about nearly dying, it really brought something out of you. 

"Looked like you needed a hand," was all he had to say on the matter, albeit out of his uncle's earshot. A sharp cough from Dwalin was enough to break the spell, to remind me just where I stood, surrounded and with little chance of escape. I still could not fully fathom what had happened in the tower, just how far I had pushed my luck, and that I stood and breathed still - alive, but for how long? My strange strain of luck could not last forever.

"Horn's coming from the east," Dwalin grunted. 

"We may have enough time to retreat to Dale-" the hobbit began, but Oakenshield shook his head. 

"This must end now," he said, his voice firm. His gaze fell on Fili, who nodded grimly back, "for all our sakes." 

"And quickly," Kili thought to add. Across the frozen river, the hordes beneath Azog were gathering. There had seemed to be so many in the tower, but, out in the harsh daylight, there could not have been more than a few score, maybe a hundred. For what it was worth, they still outnumbered us. 

"Kili." Our six turned then to a seven, and then to a reluctant eight. Cue the arrival of the two elves who had fought with us against the orcs in the bargeman's house and had helped (I'd concede them that) us just now at the tower. The red-headed elf sheathed her knives as she approached, striding towards us. Her path however was quickly blocked by Dwalin, hands gripping his war hammer. The fair-haired elf at her back grasped his bow and nocked it, glaring down at the unrelenting dwarf.

"She's fine," Kili said, grasping Dwalin by the shoulder. "She's with me." 

Dwalin grunted at that and looked to Oakenshield, refusing to lower his guard until he heard what his leader had to say about this. Oakenshield only looked to his nephew and then to the elf at his side. His face remained grimly set. 

"Be quick about it," was all he then had to say on the matter, and he turned away. Dwalin grunted, spat derisively at the ground, and stepped aside. 

Kili seemed almost oblivious in his happiness to his uncle's clear disgust. His happiness however at the red-headed elf's return was shadowed almost at once by worry.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, taking the elf's hands in his own, looking up to her. "The mountain's about to be swamped. You've got to get away."

"I wanted to be with you." Oakenshield was not the only one feeling a wee bit sick about it all. I caught the fair-haired elf's gaze and raised an eyebrow.

"We on the same side now?" I asked.

"Seems like it," the elf replied, coolly. His bow remained in hand, arrow resting slack against his leg; if he needed to, he could have had it buried in my chest before I so much as blinked or finished calling him a rude name.

Fili was made of better stuff than I was. He took a step forward and held out a hand to the elf. It was hard to know who was more surprised: the elf, Fili, or me. Hesitantly, the elf took Fili's hand with his free hand, grasping it. 

"Thanks for what you did up there," he said, gruffly, nodding back behind ourselves to the tower.

"We're on the same side," was all the elf had to say about it, and both broke out of their embrace, ending that awkward moment then and there. Despite their help, this alliance still left a bad taste in my mouth and it seemed to be shared by all, bar Kili, the red-head, and the hobbit.

"Prepare yourselves!" Oakenshield roared, and it seemed our brief respite from warring was over. He, Dwalin, and the hobbit raised their weapons. The she-elf drew her blades from their sheaths, the other elf nocked his bow. Kili drew his sword. It was only Fili and I left weaponless, our blades having been taken from us in the tower. 

"Don't stand there gawping!" Dwalin yelled back at me. "Grab a blade!" I might have yelled back: "From which smithy?", but I spotted then the weapons left lying among the deceased goblin mercenaries. The sword and shield I wrenched out of the hands of one already-stiffening fiend stank, but it would do. At my side, Fili was likewise gearing up, a sword in each hand, just as he liked it.

He caught me looking at him and the briefest flash of a smile appeared again from beneath his moustache. It took all my resolve again not to grab him then and hold onto him and to kiss him and - to hell with the world and this damned war! What I would've given just for a moment alone with him.

Our moment was shattered again, only then by Oakenshield. He grabbed his older nephew by the shoulder. 

"Hold off the pass," Fili's uncle ordered him. "We'll hunt that scum down, but we'll need to be sure we can get off this mountain. Watch your brother," he added.

"Are we not fighting alongside you, Uncle?" Kili exclaimed, but a hard look from Oakenshield silenced him. There was no more time to argue among ourselves. The orcs were gathering, we were about to be swarmed.

We could only pray Oakenshield would get to Azog soon enough. 

"Du Bekar!" Oakenshield cried out then, drawing his sword and raising it high. And, in reply, we dwarves (and hobbit) joined him, shouting out our Khuzdul war cry. The elves said nothing or perhaps they said something in their own tongue to add to our cries. I wasn't paying them much attention at that moment. An uneasy silence fell then across the mountain top as the orcs gathering caught our cries amid the mist. 

"To arms!" Fili cried then, in the Common Tongue for our new pointy-eared allies. Under the cover of the mist, Oakenshield, Dwalin, and the hobbit were climbing down the ruins, leaving us to fend off an orc army ourselves. 

"Stay close," Fili added, although the pale-haired elf was quick to disregard Fili's command. He too raced off into the fog, leaving his red-headed companion behind to help us. 

As if to lift our flagging nerves then, Kili went to shout out another war cry - but his voice was drowned out by the shriek of the orc's horn. From the shadows and from the fog, tall figures loomed over us, atop the ruins. 

The first orc that jumped down fell helpfully onto the tip of my blade. He came crashing down heavily, forcing my borrowed blade up into him, but he just would not stop falling. He crashed into me, sending us both falling to the ground, and his weight held me down while he shook in his death throes on top of me. 

Leaving my sword wedged firmly in between his ribs, I scurried out from beneath him, crying out as yet more pain coursed through my wrecked arm. It took all my strength to keep my shield up, slamming myself hard against the next orc that came at me, no longer having a blade to hand to make an easy kill. I forced the oncoming orc back a few paces before the she-elf helped finish him off when his back was turned to her and her blades. 

I couldn't give her more than a curt nod of thanks before the next orc was on me and the next. I hit the first one hard with my shield, winding him perhaps, and booted the other one away from me. It was all I could do to stop myself being swarmed. 

Just a few paces ahead, Fili and Kili were fighting, back to back, a ring of dead or dying orcs piling up around them. Fili must have spotted my misfortune as suddenly he was shouting out and then one of his swords was being thrown my way. I caught it, deftly enough, and put it to instant use. 

The fog was easing, but the orcs were not.

"Retreat!" Fili shouted above the din, but to where? We were surrounded just about on all sides. The ruins gave us a height advantage from the orc masses below, but the beasts were scrambling at the rock face. There was only so many my boot could keep off. 

A hand grasped my arm, tugging me relentlessly back, just as an orc hand snatched at my ankle. The orc's pull was stronger, bringing me down, but then a sword came down in a blur of maille and gold, severing the orc's hand from the rest of him. The orc howled in pain and as Fili dragged me back up onto my feet and away, I kicked the severed hand away.

Escape from the mountain was made impossible by the hordes - our only means of retreat was further into the ruins, drawing as many orcs to us and away from Oakenshield.

"Come on!" Fili roared, as he drew us further up into the ruins, along a steep stone staircase carved into the mountainside. It was then that a particular figure emerged from the fog. Large, hulking beast, one eye missing, the orc had to be...

"Bolg," Kili whispered. His sword wobbled ever so slightly in his grip as he looked on at the foe, the son of Azog, with rising excitement. "Fee, it's him!" 

Unlike his father, Bolg stood without a guard, surveying the battlefield with a steely one-eyed gaze. His gaze fell onto us - three dwarves and two elves, trapped within a labyrinth of ruined stone - and he raised his sword in mocking salute, directly at the fair-haired elf emerging from the shadowy depths of some crumbling battlements. 

"What's he to you?" I hissed to the elf as he drew close, but he ignored me, staring up at the orc with an equally hate-filled look. 

Without word, the elf raised his bow and launched shot after shot at the orc, Bolg deflecting each but the very last one, which struck him, biting deep into his shoulder. He grimaced at that, grasping the arrow's end and pulling it free from his flesh. His mouth curled up into a snarl, he began to tread down the stone steps and the blonde elf, bow replaced with two daggers, stood ready for him. 

"We need to move." The elves may have been focused on the battle ahead, but Fili had his eyes on our backs and the encroaching orcs. Before he could say anything more, the blonde elf was surging forward, the redhead at his back, and then Kili at her back - and, just like that, Fili and me were left on the steps to hold off the rest of the orcs.

Even with the height advantage of the steps, the fight was hard and even my good arm was tiring fast. Orc after orc fell, but they were soon replaced. Behind us, we could only hear the fight against Bolg, Kili's cries in Khuzdul met with strange elven shouts and the roars of a furious orc. 

One such roar caught us off-guard, followed as it was by Kili's sharp yelp. Fili, by instinct, spun around and, in his distraction, was knocked bodily aside by an orc's shield. I could only watch, horrified, as Fili stumbled and fell over the side of the steps and disappeared. 

I ran to the side of the stairs, only for an orc to grab my hair and drag me physically back. I swung around, scalp burning, eyes tearing up, and caught the orc with my blade, freeing myself in time to see a dazed, but otherwise unhurt Fili standing up. He had been lucky, the drop could not have been more than six feet. 

"Kili?!" He shouted up at me. Oh, right, Kili! 

No longer willing to hold off the orcs on my own, I span around and clambered up the shattered staircase, finding the fight with Bolg still on-going. Kili was unhurt too, but the source of his pained cry was apparent. The red-headed elf had taken a bad hit, blood dripped down her face from a bad cut, but she still fought on, her and the other elf weaving in and out around the orc, slashing and attacking any undefended side.

A warhorn sounded from somewhere below - the oncoming orcs paused in their pursuit. Another low sound called out. One orc, still in the heat of the chase, made to carry on after me, but he was stopped by another orc grabbing him and pulling him back. It seemed the horn was signalling a retreat. 

Bolg looked down confused at the retreating orcs - but not for long. Distracted, he paused, long enough for the blonde elf to leap onto his back and to plunge a dagger into the thick muscle of his neck. Roaring in pain, the huge orc stumbled backwards, before he and the elf disappeared over the side of the stairs. 

The red-headed elf screamed and ran to the stair's edge, searching in vain for her lost friend. There was little chance of the elf being saved by a small drop. 

Taking this all as a quick reprieve from the fighting, I sank to my knees, clutching my throbbing arm to my chest. But like with all reprieves, it was over too quickly. From amid the neighbouring battlements and racing down the steps came a panicked Dwalin, closely tailed by Fili. The horn in Dwalin's hand was enough to tell us that the retreat had not been called by the orcs.

"Where's Thorin?" Dwalin cried, grabbing ahold of Kili. "You seen him? You seen Bilbo?"

"No!" 

Dwalin shook his head. "We saw that piece of filth ahead. Gave chase. But I lost them in these blasted ruins." Kili caught Fili's eye from across the top of the she-elf's head - she having too fallen to her knees beside Kili, torn up with grief over the other elf - and the brothers' faint nod to each other was almost impossible to detect. 

"You boys need to get off this mountain now," Dwalin said - much to the brothers' sudden uproar. "No buts. We can't lose you." 

"We're trapped," Kili exclaimed. "Your trick won't keep the orcs off us for long. Let's find Thorin and finish this. Together." Fili nodded, turning on Dwalin.

Dwalin looked to the heavens and pulled a face, halfway between a smile and a sneer.

"Mahal damn your stubborn hides," he growled, before clapping Fili on the shoulder. "Fine, have it your way, find your uncle, do what must be done. But be quick with it. The lass," he gestured to me, "and I will clear the passage down." 

"I get a say in this?" I shot back, but was silenced with another growl from Dwalin. 

"Stay with Dwalin," Fili said, turning to me. He clasped my shoulders, looking me straight in the face. "Find a way to get us off this cursed rock." Across the staircase, Kili was speaking soft words to the she-elf, but her attention was elsewhere. A great bat appeared, flying upwards, the blonde-haired elf, somehow still alive, was dangling from its feet, shooting at the retreating orcs down below.

The sight of that was enough to leave anyone silent. Fili turned back to me, planted a hard kiss on my lips and was off, grabbing his brother and pulling him down the stairs. The she-elf meanwhile was running too, upwards, following her friend's flight.

"Come on," Dwalin snapped, and I followed the older dwarf back down the steps, jumping and stumbling over the orc bodies piled across them. 

The remainder of the orc hordes were not hard to find. Dissension had rooted in the group and was growing fast. Dwalin's ruse had been worked out and the hordes were turning from their retreat down the mountain, back to the ruined citadel - and straight towards Dwalin and me.

"Ready, lass?" Dwalin said, drawing out his battleaxe and swinging it about for good measure. "Remember what I taught you." 

"Don't drink on an empty gut?" I shot back, earning myself a snort. 

"Here we go!" The orcs had caught sight of us and they were making to charge. 

I raised my shield, slammed the flat of my sword against it. "Du Bekar!" I roared.

My war-cry was met with Dwalin's own cry and the roars of the charging orcs - and then a few odd choked splutters. The elf dangling from the bat came swooping past, bow drawn, peppering the horde with arrows and slowing their charge. The redhead elf came next, her daggers took down two at the back, before she was off, chasing the fair-haired elf. Together, they must have left us only a dozen foul beasts to deal with.

"Fucking elves," Dwalin growled, "got to steal all the fun."

The remaining dozen proved to be relatively light work between Dwalin and me and, when they were done, gave us a chance to breath, just the two of us, alone but for a heap of dead or dying orcs. 

"I'll watch this." I was embarrassed to admit but the older dwarf caught his breath back before I did. "Make sure no more of the bastards are about. You go, find the others, Bilbo too. We've done what we could here." 

Grasping my sword in my good hand and my shield in the other, I turned and headed back towards the ruins, wishing myself to soon be free of this citadel. Bodies littered the ruins, but I caught no sight of Oakenshield or his hobbit among them. It was only as I crept back down towards the frozen river, near to the tower where Fili and I had so nearly died, did I catch the harsh sound of metal against metal. 

Out on the ice, near to where the frozen river once dropped over the side of the mountain into a waterfall, the three dwarves parried with the great beast himself. 

Azog was relentless. The Pale Orc swung his great chained stone thing relentlessly, while Oakenshield and his nephews sought to catch him off-foot. Every time one of them got close to the hulking beast, he would slash at them with the great blade attached to what remained of his arm, forcing them to jump narrowly aside. 

Sword in hand, I went to run out onto the ice, but was stopped as I felt the earth shudder beneath me. The ice! It was breaking. A long crack from beneath Azog grew, splitting the ice apart beneath our feet, and I only narrowly avoided slipping as the ice broke apart from under me.

Out on the field, the deadly game only intensified. Fili feinted and, in the Pale Orc's brief state of distraction, Oakenshield struck, striking the great beast in the shoulder with his sword. Azog howled, swinging about, but Oakenshield's sword was stuck, trapped in the Pale Orc's hard muscle. 

Oakenshield would not let go of his sword, pulling and tugging at it to come free; Azog merely turned around, pulled the sword aside, and booted the dwarven king hard in his chest, sending him sliding backwards across the shattering ice. 

Howling with rage, Kili raced at the great beast only for Azog to knock the sword from his hands with his own bladed arm and to grab him by the throat with his remaining hand.

"Kili!" Fili cried. I could only watch in horror as Azog raised Kili up by his throat, Kili kicking frantically at him as his feet were lifted up from the floor. 

Fili tore across the ice at the Orc, but the ice gave away beneath him, forcing him to jump aside. Seeing the other dwarf prince charging at him, Azog carelessly tossed a gasping Kili aside and readied his flail. As Fili slid and jumped across the ice, racing, swords raised, to defend his unarmed brother, Azog struck. The stone brick caught Fili unaware on his side, cracking hard against his ribs, sending him sprawling across the ice. 

I did not hear my scream above the thumping beat of my pulse drumming in my ear, but I felt it. I slid and struggled, jumping from ice shard to ice shard, yet no matter how much I slid and jumped, I seemed only to be moving backwards. Far away, across the ice, I saw Fili land in a broken heap - and move no more. 

Kili too was crying out, a harsh sound from his bruised throat. He was struggling to his feet, but Azog beat him to it. With his bladed arm, the Pale Orc speared the back of Kili's shirt, lifting him by his collar. With his brick returned and raised in his remaining hand, Azog looked to Oakenshield, who was slowly gaining his bearings, slowly getting back to his feet.

The Pale Orc called out to him in the Black Tongue, his tone mocking, before slamming the brick through the ice, where it had first splintered, where it was weakest. Gouging out a hole, he pulled his brick away and, crouching down, he pulled Kili loose from his blade, grasped him by his hair, and plunged the young dwarf's head under the ice. 

Oakenshield cried out, but my eyes were not on him. My eyes were on the Pale Orc crouched low, the splintering ice, Kili's legs, kicking, kicking against the breaking ice. 

Half-blind and stumbling, I threw myself across the ice, slipping and sliding. I reached the Pale Orc just as Kili's kicks began to slow, but the ice had impeded my attack. Azog's blade caught me back-handed as I went to attack behind him, the force of his strike half-hearted, his strength taken up by Kili's will to hold on. The blow still knocked me from my feet, knocking me down heavily onto my front.

Struggling again onto my hands and knees, I watched Oakenshield charge at Azog. His grip on the ice was surer, his attack more keen. Grasping Kili's forgotten blade, the dwarf king threw himself bodily at Azog, parrying his blade arm away, pushing the orc back. Azog lost his grip on Kili's head fending off Oakenshield's attack. 

From where I had fallen, I could see Kili's still body, barely moving, laid out against the ice. If I had turned, I would have been able to see Fili's broken body, barely moving, but I could not find it in me to look. My eyes were on Kili. I coughed once, blood staining the ice beneath me - that couldn't be good. Groaning, I pulled myself forward. I had to be sure, I had to make sure... 

Oakenshield and the Pale Orc fought on the ice, rolling and swiping at each other as the ice continued to crack away beneath them. It appeared at first that Oakenshield had the upper hand, but a sharp blow from Azog's fist sent him again sprawling backwards. The Pale Orc climbed back to his feet, wiped a smear of blood away from his lip. Beneath his feet, Kili lay motionless. I was still too far to reach him, even as I pulled myself back up onto my feet.

Azog grasped Kili by the back of his collar, pulling him up again. He looked down at the pale, lifeless dwarf in his hand and said something, over his shoulder, to Oakenshield in the Black Tongue, the same words in the same mocking tone as before. Then, without further ado, he let Kili go.

I watched Kili disappear beneath the ice, slipping through the hole that Azog had fashioned. Oakenshield was shouting, someone else was crying out, but it wasn't me. Fili had watched his brother fall, unable to do anything but watch, his arm and legs broken beneath him. His howl, sounding out across the ice, caught me off-guard. Before I knew it, I was running. 

Azog had turned on his hole, turned his attention back to Oakenshield, again struggling to his feet. He did not see me stumbling forward, casting my sword aside, my shield, the maille over my head. 

Without a word, without a thought, I threw myself forward, plunging down into the darkness beneath the ice and after Kili.


	25. Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nithi lays all on the line to save the Durins – but will her gamble pay off?

The water beneath the ice may as well have been a wall of charging orc. The cold hit me like a sharp punch to the chest, knocking the wind out of me. Above me, a translucent pearly sky of sunlight through the ice and, below me, only darkness.

The darkness was growing. I was sinking fast. I kicked hard at the water, but this was no evening swim in an elf-lord's fountain. My arms struggled to pull myself up, my weak arm all but useless. I could only watch the sky fall further away from me, a faint reddish haze trailing after me.

In the dark depths, I could not see Kili and, as the cold of the water eased to an almost-comfortable warmth, I realised that I did not necessarily want to find him, but to just let the water take me.

The gentle comfortable warmth that grew as I sank further down turned quickly to burning. My chest, unable to hold on any longer, gave away and panicked when it found only water and no air. Struggling, my body fought against the numbing pull of the water, arms and legs thrashing against the current. As I fought, my foot collided with something dark and soft, just beneath me in the water. Kili!

My arms and legs turned away from the light, pushing myself further down until I could get a grip of the dwarven prince. He did not move as I wrapped my arms around him, but it was certainly Kili, his long brown hair streaming out around him, tickling my face as I pushed us with all my remaining strength back to the surface.

The ice may have been cracking underfoot from above, but below it remained solid, at least where I first attempted to surface. Banging my head hard against the ice, I sank a few feet, before trying again, Kili, all but a sodden boulder in my arms.

Again I could not find the hole and the panic was quickly setting in. Clutching Kili with one arm, my hand twisting his hair around my fist to keep some grip, I tread the water and used my other arm to punch at the ice above, my desperate chest on fire.

It was then that I saw the shadow above the ice: a half-broken dwarf dragging himself across the ice. He must have seen my fist at least banging against the ice as suddenly there was a hand against the ice above, the faint sound of Fili shouting something from somewhere above.

I did what I could to follow Fili's hand as the burning only grew worse and the darkness crept over my eyes. I might have slipped away had a hand not come then, catching me by the hair, dragging me back into the world above.

The first breath of air was beautiful; sharp and cold, it blew the darkness from my eyes. Only then did my chest begin to struggle, retching and throwing up the water I had breathed in. It took my all to push Kili up towards his brother.

Azog's flail had broken Fili's right arm, but his left arm was still good to go, and, not without difficulty, he grabbed his brother by the collar, hauling him out of the water and out onto the ice. Free of Kili's weight, my body sunk back, relieved of its duty. But the fight was not over yet. Fili's hand found my own collar and was hauling me up. Scrambling at the ice, I grasped Fili's shoulder and, with his help, pulled myself out, falling, retching, gasping, soaked to my skin, onto the ice beside him. I felt all too much like one of the fish left out on the floor of the bargeman's boat.

"You fool!" It took a while for my ears to clear out, to realise Fili was shouting at me. He was above me all of a sudden, his face pale, his golden hair falling over me. His right hand, fixed still on an arm twisted out of shape, brushed against my cheek, so very hot against my half-frozen skin. "You bloody fool!" He continued to shout and my only response to that was to spout out yet more water, rolling, retching, onto my side. I felt the hot press of his lips against my forehead and then he was dragging himself away, to the still form of his brother.

Slowly, I sat up, my chest aching, teeth chattering and body weary. Across the ice, I watched, numb, as Oakenshield and the Orc fought on. A sudden rustle of wings and dark shadows loomed over, and I watched, half-believing I was dreaming still, caught beneath the warm waters of the ice, as eagle after eagle soared over us.

The sudden arrival of the eagles caught the Orc off-guard. Oakenshield grabbed up Azog's stone brick and threw it to him as he jumped back, forcing the Orc off-balance and down into the murky depths below. The Pale Orc struggled, clawing at the ice, both with blade and with fist, but, in the end, it was his flail that dragged him down.

Silence fell over the ice as only then the full gravitas of what had just happened began to sank in. The Pale Orc was gone, cast down beneath the ice. There was no one around stupid enough to throw themselves in after him, to even attempt to save him. He was truly gone.

Wearily, I dragged myself over to Fili, who knelt beside his brother, pressing against his chest with his one remaining good hand. At first there was nothing, nothing but Fili's muttered prayers, but then Kili gagged and retched, water spouting from his mouth. Fili continued pressing until Kili gagged no more, but still the younger dwarf would not open his eyes, lay still and as cold as death beneath us.

Fili's coat came off and he pressed it into my hands, unable to put it on me himself. Teeth chattering, I pulled the warm material close, smelling Fili's scent, feeling the exhaustion take hold of me. Struggling to stay awake anymore, I settled next to Kili on the ice, drawing the coat over us both, resting my face against his neck, my breath hot against both of our skin.

"Kili?" I heard Oakenshield's voice, but did not look up. "Is he...?"

"He's alive," came Fili's weary reply. "Just. We need to-"

But his response was suddenly cut short by a sharp cracking sound and then by Oakenshield's sudden shocked howl of pain. Pulling myself up, I could only watch as Oakenshield looked down, at the sharp blade protruding from his boot. He sank, howling to his knees, as just then the blade disappeared and Azog came bursting through the ice.

"Uncle!" Fili shouted, but Oakenshield was on his back, sword raised, keeping off Azog's bladed arm as it pressed down towards him.

Fili struggled, one handed, to his feet. Azog's brick may have shattered his arm, but he could walk just about, stumbling across the ice towards his uncle.

"Thorin!" Up on the rocks above, the hobbit appeared, looking down at the scene in wide-eyed horror. Where had he come from? Where had he been? Again, I had forgotten all about him.

His shout caught the Pale Orc off-guard for a second. It proved to be just enough time. Enough time for Fili to grab the dagger from his boot (Mahal only knew when he had decided to plant it there) and to thrust it into the exposed flesh of the back of Azog's calf. The blow took all of Fili's strength, sending him sprawling to the ice below, but it worked.

Azog roared in agony, went to swing his bladed arm around, but Oakenshield raised himself up, thrusting his sword deep into the Orc's chest. Azog sunk forward onto Oakenshield's sword groaning aloud, but then his lips twisted into a foul snarl.

With one quick final slash of his bladed arm, he severed Oakenshield's exposed arm above the elbow. I could only watch from beside Kili as Oakenshield screamed, the dying Orc collapsing on top of the dwarven king, the darkening puddle of blood emerging out from beneath them both.

Leaving Fili's coat to Kili, I dragged myself forward, but the hobbit beat me to it. With a strength that belied his height, the halfling rolled the Orc's corpse off of Oakenshield, pulling at his sleeve, for something, anything, to staunch the bleeding.

Oakenshield's eyes were pale, his breath ragged. Beside him, his right arm lay motionless, his sword still buried into the Orc's chest.

"Thorin, Thorin, Thorin," the halfling was saying, clutching at Oakenshield's face, pressing his torn-off sleeve against the stump. "I'm here, I'm here."

"Bilbo," Oakenshield gasped out the name as if it was a prayer, before his eyes rolled back and he fell still.

"Uncle?" Fili was again pulling himself to his feet. Seeing the blood pooling out around his uncle, he gasped. "Thorin?!"

A lone eagle went to fly past, perhaps the last of its company to arrive. Struggling up to my own feet, I raised my weary arms and shouted aloud in a voice left hoarse by the water.

"Help us!" I cried. My voice was joined by the others, by Fili and the hobbit and then by the red-headed elf, who chose to make an appearance just as the fighting had ended.

"Kili," she gasped. Leaving us to our shouting, she threw herself across the ice at the still form of Kili, who chose only then to open his eyes.

"Tauriel," he gasped, in a voice that was no less hoarse than my own.

The great eagle above cried out and another of its flock rose to join it - and another. Two of the eagles landed, perching awkwardly on the ice. One did not need further instruction. Its talons strangely gentle, it scooped Oakenshield up, just as the eagle had done before, all those weeks ago atop the burning forest peak, and carried him off, over the mountain-side.

Kili was next, but with Fili and the she-elf's help, he could stand. She helped him onto the second bird where Fili could not and together, with the hobbit in tow, they held on as the eagle soared away.

This left just Fili and me (and the eagle) atop the mountain, alone but for the dead.

"Come on," I said, drawing Fili's coat close around myself. Even this was no longer feeling so warm and I was struggling to stay upright, the shivers coursing involuntarily down my body. I reached out to the eagle for support, resting my hand against a warm feathered shoulder. I did not fancy another stomach-churning flight, but I also did not think I'd make the climb down from the mountain. Nor did I think Fili would make it.

But the dwarf prince did not move. He stood silent, his broken arm held against his chest, staring down at the dead Orc - the creature that had plagued his family throughout their exile, had nearly killed him and his brother just then, and had cut his uncle's arm off - with a look of such intense hatred I would not have believed Fili could have contained such darkness.

Resting his boot on the Orc's chest, he pulled his uncle's sword free with his one working hand. I realised what he was about to do before he started, but the sight still churned my stomach. It was a hard enough task to do with two working hands, let alone one, but Fili would not be deterred.

I crept quietly to his side and rested my own hands over his one hand on the sword hilt. Despite our injuries, despite our pain, we worked together until the Orc's great, gnarled head, eternally fixed into a wicked grin, came free from its shoulders. Casting his uncle's sword aside, Fili grasped the Orc's head up by its ear and limped to the side of the waterfall.

It was there that I joined him, looking out over the valley below, to our ancestral mountain home, and to our friends and foe fighting down below. At the edge of the frozen waterfall, Fili raised his one good arm, showing Azog's head to the masses below.

The fighting did not stop immediately, but, when it did, it finished like a blanket sweeping over the field, figures stopping and looking upwards, a harsh whisper travelling throughout the hordes. We were too far away to be able to identify our friends from the mass of faces below; we could only hope they had survived the onslaught. What we could do however was to drive the remaining orcs into retreat with Fili showing the decapitated head of their leader for them all to see.

Down below, the orc hordes drew backs and our forces moved out after them, pushing them back and away from Erebor, away from Dale.

Beside me, I felt Fili's shoulders sag. Casting Azog's head aside, he sank to his knees. It was there that I joined him, settling against his side while his one good arm pulled me close, holding me while I shivered beside me. We might have stayed like that for an eternity - two statues, frozen in ice, watching the sun slowly set over the battlefield and over the mountains across. It was only the impatient cries of the eagle that brought us back to our senses.

"Let's go home," I whispered.


	26. All's Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company comes to terms with the aftermath of the battle.

I remember clambering up onto the giant eagle's back after Fili. I remember holding him tight, my arms wrapped around his middle. I remember the world suddenly falling out from beneath us and how I had buried my face against Fili's shoulder, unable to watch as the eagle flew off of the frozen waterfall's edge.

I had no memory after that, besides waking up some hours later, buried beneath a stack of blankets. 

It had been the familiar scratching sound of Ori's quill pen that had pulled me out of my slumber and the younger dwarf cast his pen and book aside as I began to stir. 

"Whe- wha- Water," I just about managed to make that word out, my throat parched and my mouth uncomfortably dry. The entire right side of my face ached with a vengeance and even the smallest movement of my mouth was enough to send sharp shooting pains upwards. 

Ori helped raise me up - and if I had thought my face hurt, my body was another matter. As I took slow slips from Ori's proffered water cup, I managed to gain my bearings. I was in some form of makeshift camp within the Mountain. Even from where I sat on the floor, at the furthest end of the hall, I could see the dark night sky outside through the cracks in the Mountain's ruined entrance front. 

"We won?" I managed, and Ori nodded eagerly. The younger dwarf was still in his armour from before, with mud still smeared across his face and caught in his beard, but he was otherwise unhurt. Rather he was stained more so with ink than with blood.

Ori saw me look to his quill and book. "A history of the battle," he said, almost apologetically. "I thought future dwarves should know what happened here."

I could only nod, uncertain if future dwarves really would want a blow-by-blow account of such a battle. Memories of it were slowly coming back to me in brief sudden flashes and I could only hope Ori left out some details, particularly the part where I had bitten Azog's leg. 

Before I could secure a promise out of Ori to re-write history, Oin came over. Like Ori, he appeared uninjured, rather busily moving about with an armful of bandages. 

"You're awake, are you?" was all he said to me, before he set about, poking and prodding at me. 

"Ow," I said, going to swat his hand away after the fifth time he prodded my swollen cheek. It was then that I realised my left arm had been fixed between two splints. "I broke it?"

"No, just a sprain," Oin said, before rattling off a list of my other injuries. "Some broken teeth, some loose ones, a nasty bruise on my right cheek, bruised ribs, bruised back, a sprained wrist, a possible concussion and mild hypothermia."

"What's the prognosis then?" I just about said. My tongue rolled over my teeth, noting the damage, wincing at the worst of it. Looked like I would be eating broth for the next however long. 

"What?" I repeated myself, louder. "Oh, that, you'll recover just fine. Some rest, no sudden moving about. Lots of fluids." Oin clapped Ori on the shoulder and already the younger dwarf was re-filling his water cup up. "Oh, and no biting any more orcs."

I could only groan as the Company's medic walked off, laughing to himself. I wondered how that story had got out already. My suspicions fell on Dwalin. 

I shook my head to Ori's offer of more water and instead set about climbing back up to my feet, despite Ori's protests. It was then that I realised I was no longer in my sodden tunic and trousers, but someone had stuffed me into what had once been a potato sack, with arms and head fortunately cut out. Whatever it was it was surprisingly comfortable, dry and warm. My hair had yet to dry still, falling about my shoulders in damp strands and plaits. 

Ori gave up protesting and helped me to my feet. He grabbed one of the blankets and wrapped it around my shoulders and I gave him a smile for that, one that was worth the pain. 

Nori appeared then from around the corner. The impromptu hospital had been set up among the ruins of the entrance with blankets and sacks pinned up to other some means of division between the rows of dwarves and humans laid out on the floor. I was almost happy to see my old-time foe relatively uninjured. His shoulder was bandaged up, but he did not seem so bothered by that. Rather his hair had been pulled into two strands, in an attempt to cover the uneven patch where an orc must have sliced through his top hair strand. 

"You alive then?" he said, looking me up and down.

"Just about," I said, gently disentangling myself from Ori's grasp. I did not want to appear weak in front of his infuriating brother. "Nice hair," I could not resist adding.

Nori shrugged - he must have expected I'd have said as much. 

"Nice name: Nithi Orc-Nibbler. You should write that one down, Ori."

I could sense the unbruised side of my face flare up at that. Fortunately for Nori I was still at my shuffling stage of recovery. 

"Haven't you got anything better to do?" I snapped.

"No," came his response, "just that Thorin wanted to know when you woke up. Guess I'd better tell him that."

"Oa- Thorin?" I vaguely remembered the dwarven king being lifted into the air by the eagle, unconscious, a bloody stump where his right arm had once been. "He's ok?"

Nori shrugged. "All things considered... He wants a word with you first." 

"About what?"

Nori shrugged again. "Beats me," he said. "Orc recipes maybe?"

Leaving Nori to his stupid jokes, I pressed on, with Ori close at hand. It was not hard to find where they had brought Oakenshield after the battle, blankets raised high to give the king extra privacy in his recovery amidst the makeshift camp. Dwalin stood guarding this particular part of the fort, still fully-armoured, still leaning against his war-hammer.

"Up and about again, lass?" he asked, as I shuffled up to him.

"Just about," I mumbled. "Why does Oa- Thorin want to see me?" 

"Ask him yourself," Dwalin said, stepping aside.

"Thanks for telling everyone about what happened on the tower."

Dwalin did not miss my grumble. He snorted.

"I only sent you to fetch Thorin and the boys," he said, as I shuffled past him. "Took me an hour to realise you'd forgotten all about me." 

"We found an easier way off the mountain."

"I figured when I saw you all fly off on the eagles," Dwalin grumbled, turning back to his guard-duty, "Orc-Nibbler," he made sure to add, over his shoulder. 

Oakenshield was laid out on the floor, between the kneeling figures of Balin and the hobbit. Heavy bandages covered the stump that Azog had left behind. The dwarf king's face was wan, but his eyes were bright and his voice was surprisingly strong.

"Nithi," he said, seeing me shuffle in. "Thank Mahal, you're well."

I would sooner he'd have teased me for biting an orc and losing a few teeth in the process. His apparent concern was more off-putting and I resisted the urge to back out of the fort. Balin was already struggling to his feet on stiff knees and walking over to me. The elderly dwarf did not look any worse for the battle, beside an apparent stiffness to his over-used arms. He complained about it as he embraced me, before stepping back to look me up and down.

"You've certainly been in the wars now, lass," he said, warmly. "Thank you for what you did for the boys," he made sure to add.

"Yes," Oakenshield was stirring below, the hobbit helped him sit upright. "Thank you... for Fili and Kili. Thank you for saving my boys."

I bit back a sharp retort: "I didn't do it for you." Rather I acknowledged the dwarf king's gratitude with an awkward head nod, wishing I was back at the other end of the hall, beneath the blankets, sound asleep still. 

"I cannot deny that I had my doubts about bringing you along," he said. "An untrained girl, a thief with no name or family, but the word of distant kin." He nodded to Balin at that. "But you proved me wrong. It seems I've been proved wrong more than once." It was then that he turned his gaze to the hobbit at his side. 

I took that as my cue to leave, mumbling a 'You're welcome' as I backed out, followed by Balin and Ori. 

"Go, rest, lass," Balin said. "You look dead on your feet." I certainly felt it. 

"Where's Fili?" I asked. "And Kili? They're alright?" 

"They're well," Balin reassured me. "Kili took a bad chill from the ice, but Oin reckons rest and warmth will have him on the mend. Fili..."

"Fili's alright?"

"A broken arm, some broken ribs and a sprained ankle. He and his brother won't be getting into much trouble any time soon." He must have seen my anxiousness as he softly patted my hand. "He's over there. Go and see him for yourself."

I left Ori with Balin and made my way across the camp. It seemed that our Company had made it out of the battle, mostly in one piece, but others were not so lucky. For every five full beds, there was one with the blankets drawn up. Dwarves continued to clamber in and out through the shattered mouth of the Mountain's entrance, carrying in yet more wounded and more deceased off of the battlefield in makeshift stretchers.

Across the rows of beds, I caught sight of an unfamiliar scene. The red-headed elf was sat amidst the blankets and beds. She seemed blind to the looks and whispers being shot in her direction, the only elf that had been in Erebor in a long while, gazing down as she was at Kili. I almost missed him, bundled up as he was in blankets. 

I raised my hand in greeting, but they did not see me and so I continued on, relieved not to have to make yet more bedside small talk. The weariness was falling over me again. I was starting to realise that Ori's water jug had not contained water, but one of Oin's remedies to ward off the pain.

I found Fili alone at the very end of a row. The dwarf prince looked almost dead, lain out as if in state. His face was unearthly pale and his limbs had been stiffly set, his broken arm bandaged and splintered up, resting heavily on his chest. 

For a terrible moment, I thought he was dead, but then his nose twitched, his moustache moved and he cleared his throat, not stirring from his slumber, his head turning to the side while he snored peacefully away. 

Careful not to disturb him, I settled down on the floor next to him, shuffling close to him beneath the blankets. Resting my face against his neck, I closed my eyes and inhaled his familiar scent. Despite war and injury, blood and loss, a journey across half the world, he still smelt of warmth, of leather, and ever so faintly of grass. As the blackness crept over me again, a realisation came to me: a flash of light against the oncoming darkness.

I was home.


	27. Epilogue: That Ends Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nithi finds a home at last.

The quiet spell of the morning was shattered then by a fierce pounding at the door. Without so much as a warning, Dwalin swung the door open and stuck his head through.

"Fili, up!" he said, without so much as a 'good morning'. 

"What's wrong?" The dwarf prince sat up quickly, already alert, rubbing the tell-tale weariness of a sleepless night from his face. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine," Dwalin grumbled, leaning against the doorframe. "Your uncle's scouts spotted them coming on the road, just west of Dale. Our people are nearly home."

"They're here?" Fili gasped. "And- Is Mother with them?"

"Who do you think's leading them home, boy?" Dwalin said, with a low chuckle. "You'd best hurry up and dress. Don't think your ma would fancy you coming out to see her in only your sleepwear." The older dwarf then paused for what had to be a purposely drawn-out moment. "You too, Nithi."

Gasping, I sat up from where I had been hiding, beneath Fili's bedsheets, having been crouched low in a small, curled up, not breathing ball from the moment I first heard Dwalin's footsteps sounding out down the corridor. 

"How - could - you - tell?" I gasped, tugging at my bed-tussled hair. My cheeks were feeling uncomfortably hot and Fili's face was turning a vivid colour of red. 

"You really think I was born yesterday?" Dwalin snapped. "Get your fool hides up and dressed and out on the balcony before I get a repeat of my breakfast." And with that, the older dwarf stomped away.

I groaned, burying my face into my hands.

"Were we really that obvious?" I said, in a low voice. 

"We must have been." I looked up from my hands and caught Fili's eye. There was a twinkle to them that made the sudden embarrassment almost worth it. His moustache was twitching and, before we knew it, we were both laughing, falling back beneath the covers and into each other's arms.

We were reluctant to leave the warmth and each other, especially to embrace the stark reality of the balcony, the other dwarves, and our kin coming home from the Blue Mountains. The last few months, ever since we had healed well enough to leave our makeshift sick beds behind, had been spent like this, night after night of stolen time, stolen embraces, stolen pleasure. Dwalin's wake-up call had not been just for that one morning, but for all the mornings and nights before that. 

It remained unspoken between us as we clambered about, pulling clothes on from where we had tossed them around Fili's bedchamber, but we could both sense it. This magical winter of it being just the two of us was coming to an end - and neither of us were sure what we had could survive a return to our old ways. Fili and I had only ever known the Blue Mountains and our lives from the Blue Mountains were coming to reclaim us. 

Fili was struggling to pull a brush through his hair - his arm was healing still, bandaged and held in a sling against his chest. Without word, I took the brush from him and made him sit at the edge of his bed while I worked the brush through his long golden hair. When I finished plaiting his hair, I made sure to press a sneaky kiss against his bare shoulder. He started at that and spun around, a familiar hunger to his eyes, but I slipped away just before his arm could catch me. 

"No," I teased, grabbing his tunic and throwing it to him from across the other side of the bed. "Play time's over, you heard what Dwalin said." 

He grabbed the tunic, but lunged anyway. Feeling almost sorry, I crawled across the bed and planted a kiss against his lips. 

"No fair," was all he whispered against mine, earning himself a smile.

"Maybe later," I whispered back, almost a promise, certainly a wish. 

I did not have anything suitably presentable to wear other than the tunic and trousers I had worn the night before when I had snuck into Fili's bedchamber. When it came to my time to brush and tame the mad tangle of hair behind me, it was Fili who was pulling me down, Fili who brought the brush through my hair, and Fili pressing kisses against the nape of my neck.

We eventually arrived at the balcony, the last of the Company to arrive, breathless, red-faced, hair already coming loose from our braids. If Oakenshield noticed something, he did not say anything, merely nodding to his nephew as he came to stand beside him before the parapet. Dwalin scowled. Kili looked from his brother to me and then back to his brother - and only just about covered up his snort with a sudden coughing fit. 

Balin was a good deal kinder about it all. 

"Your tunic's inside-out," he whispered. "Here," he shrugged off his cloak. "Take this." 

I could not fully express my gratitude to the elderly dwarf then, hastily pulling on his cloak. 

From the balcony, we could see the distant dust rising up from the road as our kin made their steady progress towards the Mountain. As their outriders came into view, riding forth on hardy boars and goats, that was the signal for the Durins, the hobbit, and Balin to go down to the repaired entrance and to their greet their people home.

At the very head of the procession, I spied a female dwarf. Her hair and beard, held neatly in a number of intricate braids, was a similar brown to Kili's, albeit streaked with grey. I could not see her face well, but I could only wonder if she had Fili's light blue eyes. 

Dis rode at the head of our people on a small pony, surrounded by guards, but when she spied her sons ahead, she pushed her pony forward, leaving her guard trailing in her dust. She all but vaulted from the pony's side and swept straight past Oakenshield and Balin, grabbing Kili and then Fili and pulling them close to her. 

A snort sounded out from beside me and I looked to see Dwalin watching the scene with an amused grin. 

"That's Dis for you," he chuckled, softly. There was an odd brightness that seemed to come to his eyes whenever Dis was a topic and I could only wonder if that grumpy old dwarf had a soft spot for Fili and Kili's mother. 

Only after showering each son in about a dozen kisses and leaving them both flustered and blushing, she turned on her brother. I was not sure of how much Balin had included in his letter to her sent almost as soon as the dust had settled over the battlefield, but it could not have all been good. Safely ahead of our people, she felt the moment private enough to clip Oakenshield around the ear and to berate him. Up on the balcony we only caught a few words in her tirade, but it seemed she was not pleased with some of his decisions. It seemed that she had not missed the part where Thorin had almost drawn us into a war with both the humans of Dale and the elves of Mirkwood.

To his credit, Oakenshield took the lecture in his stride, waiting in silence until Dis had got all she wanted to say out, before pulling her into an awkward one-armed hug. Bofur and Bombur were in the process of crafting Oakenshield a new arm, one that worked and moved by a complicated mechanism of cogs and other bits and pieces, but process was slow and, for now, Oakenshield managed well enough.

As the first of the long line of our people drew up, Dis pulled herself out of her brother's embrace, curtseying low to him. At her side stood Balin and beside him stood Ori, clutching a long scroll of parchment and scribbling down the names of the new arrivals. Dis's name would come after the rest of ours and then other names would follow hers. Today marked the first true day of the newly-found Kingdom of Erebor. 

There was not much for the rest of us to do. It had been a busy winter of clearing rubble, clearing out parts of the mountain long gone to dis-use, distributing Thror's cursed treasure out to Dain's lot and to the elves and people of Dale, and our work was effectively done now the folk from the Blue Mountains were back. The remaining treasure had been split between us all - even the hobbit who technically had claimed the Arkenstone - and was slowly accruing in value beneath my mattress if Gloin was to be believed. My community service was effectively at an end and I had not done badly for it. 

I found myself a quiet seat in the corner of the entrance hall, content just to watch the first reactions of our people to the newly refurbished mountains. There were smiles, there were tears, there were some criticisms of out-of-date architecture from one boorish oaf. I could only hope his visit to Erebor would be a short one. 

Kili had pulled Dis off excitedly to survey their new apartments, dragging Fili along in tow. I was only relieved we had thought to make his bed before we left his rooms. It was the most happy I had seen Kili in a while. He had not been the same since the day Oakenshield and the elf king had made his she-elf leave the Mountain and return to the forest, prone to sullen moods and disappearing for lengths of time. Perhaps with Dis back the jovial young dwarf would return. 

Despite his own views on his nephew's relationship with an elf, the hobbit was never far from Oakenshield's side - nor did the king ever seem to want him to leave. The reluctant burglar had become a resident fixture and a welcome one at that. 

The wizard had stayed for a while after the battle, but some business had drawn him elsewhere. Other than for the start of our journey, the wizard had only been an intermittent member of the Company and he wasn't too missed. I'm sure he himself did not miss banging his head every time he went to turn down a corridor.

In the entrance hall, families were reuniting. Gloin was set upon first by a young dwarfling and then by his wife. Bofur was being jumped on by a collection of striplings and Bombur being rounded upon by the striplings' mothers. 

It was only after I had watched Bombur being chased off by his former lady friends, did I spy a familiar head among the crowd: my old landlady, Tiggy.

"What you doing here?" I said, jumping down from my perch and pulling the surprised elderly dwarf up in a hug. I don't know what surprised her more: the fact that I was alive, that I was hugging her, or that I was dressed in something that was not rags.

"Well, I never -" she said, pulling back to have a look at me. For an uncomfortable moment, I could only hope the tears in her eyes were from the emotion of being back in Erebor and had nothing to do with me. "Nithi. We thought you were dead. The law came lookin' but you were gone. I kept your space but you never came home. How'd you get here?"

I bit back a retort behind a smile - Tiggy had likely only kept that space on my behalf for a week before she gave it over to a new dwarf. 

"I helped get this back," I said. "You'd think I'd leave all the fun and money to the others." 

"Money?" Course, Tig's jumped on the most important matter first. She caught the glimmer coming from my mouth and became her usual inquisitive self, tugging at my beard until I obliged her by opening my mouth. She admired the gold teeth I had fitted to replace the four Azog had knocked out.

"S'nough of that," I gagged, pulling back before Tiggy could see if I had had my tonsils gold-plated too. "You can let that space back out now, Tigs, I'm doing alright." 

Tiggy shook her head, still not daring to believe it. 

"I should've signed up," she said, before moving off, still rambling on, "damn my old bones!" I left her to her ramblings and headed off, suddenly keen to have some time alone in this mad day of reunions.

Up the stairs and overlooking the mountain's front was the rooms I had chosen for myself. Yes, rooms in the plural. I had moved up in the world from a damp corner of Tig's cave to my own (admittedly tiny) apartment. Inside, I kicked off my boots and folded Balin's cloak up neatly on my bed. 

I did not sleep in my bed nearly as much as I should have done, preferring the company of another dwarf, but I could not resist patting the mattress, hearing the reassuring jingle of coins beneath it. Fili hated sleeping on it, complained that the money rattling about hurt his back and kept him awake. But I liked the sound of it all the same.

Above my bed, my father's old shield rested against the wall. The elves of Mirkwood had been decent enough to follow through on our request, sending all that they had confiscated from us... after we had sent them their jewels. They at least had not asked us to send back their barrels...

The shield had seen better days, but it was back where it had once been made. As had become routine, I rested my hand against it, thoughts turning to the father who had once wielded it beside my new friends. Balin reckoned he would have been proud of me after Ravenhill, but I couldn't be sure. I was just glad to still be in one piece to enjoy it.

My favourite part of my rooms was the large arch window that over-looked what had once been known as the Desolation and the rebuilt turrets and roofs of Dale. It was not too high-up, just enough to give me a pleasant view to watch the vast line of dwarves and wagons slowly snake its way into the mountain.

I was not alone for long. I did not look up from where I stood, arms folded on my window-sill. I heard the familiar footsteps, smelt the familiar scent, felt the familiar arm slip around my middle and the familiar breath on the back of my neck. We watched in companionable silence the people passing through, not needing to talk. Things would not be easy for us, we knew that, but we were ready to face whatever came our way.

For that moment at least, all was well. 


End file.
